Perfection
by JustBFree
Summary: Christine was not born to love Erik, she was created. Partial crossover with D.Koontz's Frankenstein.
1. Business As Usual

**Author's Note: This story is a crossover between Phantom and Dean Kootz's Frankenstein novel series. Enjoy.**

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"I'm very relieved that you took my offer. I know that this isn't the way that you've dealt with things in the past, I was worried that you would refuse," the strange voice admitted. 

The man across the room shrugged in a casual, noncommittal way. As if the weight of the world's future were not on his shoulders. As if this were only another business meeting. "Well, your message was very convincing. To be perfectly honest, Mr. …?"

"Latour, but we both know that you already knew my name."

"Mr. Latour. Very well. Your message was direct, succinct. You didn't bother to use pretense, and I like that. It's refreshing." Victor smiled, but the smile disappeared quickly into stone-cold seriousness. "And it's also dangerous. Before this goes any further, you _will_ tell me how you found out about my operation- you will tell me, or forget tomorrow morning, you won't see the next five minutes."

Erik nodded from his immobile stance. He stood mere feet away, leaning against the edge of his desk. "I understand, but I assure you I have no tangible proof of what I know. I found out about you by one of your very own creations…that is, unless none of what he told me is true, and this has been a great waste of time for all of us…but the fact that you crossed an ocean so quickly leads me to believe that there has to be a grain of truth somewhere in the story I've been told."

Victor's grip tightened on the drink that Erik had been happy to provide. The muscles in his jaw flexed in slight irritation. "That would depend on what he or she told you,"

The mask tilted to the side, as if in amusement. "It was quite a fantastic tale, really. The stuff comic books are made of. I can't recall all of the details, but there was some mention of a Mr. Victor Helios- formerly Frankenstein?- setting up shop in New Orleans of all places to create a master race that would, eventually, take over the world. Cleanse the planet of all mankind's mistakes. Tell me, is it true?"

Victor shifted- he'd not had anyone put his centuries-old dream into such a tight little nutshell before. He knew his aim; his creations knew the great plan behind the fronts of Biovision and the Hands of Mercy, but this…_human man_ had put his life's work so plainly that it was almost disrespectful.

"Victor, if what I was told is true, then you are by far the most brilliant scientist this planet has ever known. I know that you've already had me investigated, so it'll be no secret to you that I've suffered more than most at the hands of men. Let me go on record as saying that if it's all true, then by all means, tear down man's empire and build it anew. But give me what I asked for first." Erik loathed those that begged, but he knew that he was in no position to demand anything. Victor had not come alone- there were men outside the study, waiting just outside the door.

Erik knew the risk that he was taking- but he'd exhausted himself in his quest; he could take no more. If Victor ordered him killed for his knowledge, Erik could at least die knowing that he'd given one last effort, even if that last effort had been born out of a sense of obsession coupled with desperation.

Pathetic, but he could no longer wait for what he always knew would never come to him.

Victor glanced up. "I don't have to give you anything. You know the people that came here with me are my creatures. What you were told is true, every word of it and then some. I admit it, everything. Now that that's out of the way, if you'll be kind enough to tell me who's betrayed this information I would be very grateful."

Erik nodded. "A priest called me, it's been almost a year since that first call. Father Duchaine. It was very late because of the time difference, but we've spoken several times. He told me what you'd done after having listened to my music; I don't mean to brag, but he said that "it moved something and nothing" within him, and that's why he had to stand up to you. I'm sure you've killed him by now, he told me that he was preparing himself for the end. I know that you did what you had to do; that's why you came here tonight. To tie up the loose ends that threaten your dream."

Victor allowed the strong whiskey to flow down his throat. "I came here because New Orleans- my facilities and home included- is under six feet of filthy water. What can I say? Even with the wisdom of over 200 years under my belt, I still had some faith in those levees. I had evacuated like anyone would at the threat of a category 5 hurricane- I had figured on heavy damage from the storm, but I hadn't thought the entire city would be flooded."

"I'm sure no one did, but you of all people should have expected the impossible."

"Yes, well. Perhaps next time I'll show some sense and won't establish my facilities in a city below sea level. No, my next body shops will be somewhere further north, away from the ocean. I think America's Heartland is very appealing." Victor scoffed as he strode over to the window to take in the view.

Erik felt small quirks at the edges of his distorted lips. "Why not Los Angeles? It has fine weather, beautiful beaches, and it's the one place in the world that no one will bat an eye at soulless, perfect machines walking about pretending to be real people."

They shared an unexpected laugh there in the study; the light from the fireplace danced on their skin, casting them both in gold flame. Victor sighed. "All right, enough small talk, Erik. Let's get back to your infamous voicemail, if you don't mind."

Erik nodded and drained his glass. "Not at all. I thought my message was clear enough,"

He scoffed, "You called my cell phone- a private number that I can only hope Duchaine passed to you- and left a message less than 30 seconds long. I believe your exact words were 'Mr. Helios, I know what you can do. Bring a female specimen with you to blah, blah, blah…' You also mentioned an exorbitant amount of money."

Erik took a deep breath and looked into the bottom of his empty glass. "If you can do what the priest told me, I'll triple the amount I mentioned on the phone. Is it true that you can…create a woman who would love a man, no matter what he looked like?"

Victor nodded. "Yes, although love is a tricky idea. It's an emotion, the same bullshit that poets and pop stars rave about- but chemically, it's just an endorphin release, no different than eating a piece of chocolate. However, I can ensure that the lucky girl won't care much what you look like under that thing," he said, gesturing to the mask that covered all but Erik's mouth and chin.

"You say that so easily, Helios, but you don't know…"

Victor rolled his eyes at Erik's morose tone and went on, as casually as ever. "I went through the priest's things- he had all of your works on disc. Patrick knew that I'd kill him- I could see it in his eyes. I took his music out of a sense of curiosity; I wanted to know what had compelled his sudden moral attack. I see now that it might have been a mix of things that combined to upset him- your music and of course the thought that there is a heaven he could never attain. Damn religion- he knew it was all a lie and he still began to believe it. Do you know that he asked me for his release?" Victor was clearly disgusted.

Erik shook his head. "He told me that when he spoke to you next, he knew that he would meet his end."

"Congratulations, Erik. It was your music in part that compelled him to feel such remorse that he betrayed my entire operation. I suppose it doesn't matter though, does it? I could have you killed right now, and I'd intended to do just that after I heard your message…but then I listened to some of your work while coming over on the plane. Erik- it's been over 150 years since I cried, but I cried after listening to _Pygmalion _for the first time. Your need for a companion suddenly makes more sense, and I see now how your music could so move Father Patrick. I can't tell you what that feels like." Victor said quietly, suddenly lost in his thoughts.

Erik didn't say anything.

"Take off your mask."

Erik looked up. "What? No,"

"Do it, Erik." Victor pulled out a digital camera from his pocket. "Let me take your picture so that I can take it with me back to America. I'll keep you in mind as we build our new facility. I've already made plans for myself; when the time is right I'll have my brain put into a New Race body. I've heard your music, Latour. Brilliant. More than brilliant! I can't believe I'm saying this but I've honestly never heard anything so moving! Your talent is too valuable to lose, even if you are of the Old Race. You're like me, Erik. Too good for the world as it is,"

Erik frowned slightly. "You can _make people_ but can't do a brain transplant?"

Victor laughed suddenly, harsh and loud. "Creating life is one thing, Erik, the human brain is another! It's a little more complicated than you might think. You can't just unscrew the skull, pull out the brain and slip it into a new body. Besides, I'm a scientist, not a neurosurgeon- and for all that I _can_ do, I can't operate on myself."

Erik crossed his arms. "Victor. The woman. I'll pay you enough to finance the new start of Biovision, just show me a woman that could love this," Erik said, removing his mask. Victor's eyes didn't judge, he simply absorbed the sight before him. And what a sight it was! Mottled, corrupted flesh and warped bones covered Erik's face in a terrible patchwork that left only a scant few inches intact. He judged that it had to be birth defect, botched surgery and scars responsible for the face in front of him.

_No wonder he risked his life just to get in touch with me..._

To Erik's humiliation, Victor smiled. He recovered his face quickly and glared. "What is so goddamn amusing, Victor? I've known you for less than an hour and shown you my face. There are people who've known me for years who will never have that chance. I didn't risk my life by inviting you here and exposing what I know so that you could sit back and laugh at me," he hissed.

Victor shrugged. "It has to be the jet lag. The stress. You left me that voicemail 49 hours ago, the flight here took 40. My dreams are under six feet of dirty floodwater; when the waters finally roll back, black mold will set in and eat away at both my facilities and my home. Right now, I have my people scrambling to get rid of all the evidence…" Victor took a deep breath and looked around the luxurious study as if seeing it for the first time. The leather wingbacks before the fireplace, the Persain rug on the floor, even the mahogany desk that Erik was leaning against. "Look around you, Erik, you have enough money to get laid whenever you want, so why bother to risk everything by getting in touch with me?"

"I'm not in this to get laid. I'm in this for something more. Don't think I haven't tried everything. I've approached women on my own, I've had friends arrange blind dates, I've tried dating on the Internet and even flat-out baiting them with money- everything I've tried has been a disaster." Erik declared, trying to justify himself. His excuses sounded pathetic to his own ears. "I've just…I want…"

Victor then did something unexpected, and put a hand on Erik's shoulder. "I understand. I have a woman for you, just like you asked. I'm not afraid that you'll run off and tell the police. Hell, go right ahead- tell the whole world what I've done, who in their right mind would believe you? It doesn't matter anymore. I'll give you what you want- it's no loss to me, I could have a hundred more of her out into the world in six months' time. But your generosity would be a big help. The money, Erik, for the woman."


	2. She Is Born

Erik's eyes were fascinated; his heart was pounding in his chest. He felt dizzy from wonder. Erik watched as Victor's bodyguards, two hulking figures that were deaf to all but their master's commend, carried in a figure between them, a figure devoid of expression, of color, of life.

No hair grew from the thin, papery white skin that covered its blank face. The figure was clothed; the small mounds of flesh beneath its shirt were the only visible features that betrayed this _thing_ as being potentially female. The men laid it down on the sofa before the fireplace that still burned brightly, adding necessary warmth to the room. Erik stood out of their way, his hands trembling slightly, his eyes fixated on the thing's total absence of a face.

It seemed to Erik that Victor had brought him a limp mannequin that belonged more in a department store window than in his study. He felt a shiver run down his back, and moved closer to the heat of the flames. Lead was forming in his stomach just from looking at the body- second thoughts swarmed his mind.

_What horror am I in for tonight? Was I truly so stupid to believe Duchaine's story of soulless creations wandering about New Orleans? And here, I have invited _Victor Frankenstein_ to provide me with a woman! He knows that I know too much, will he awaken this thing on the sofa, only to command that it kill me?_

Victor moved forward from the shadows and gestured for the bodyguards to step aside. He drew a large syringe from his jacket, and before Erik could blink, he plunged the long needle directly into the ghostly figure's chest, directly into her heart!

"Victor, what-?!"

Victor glanced over his shoulder at Erik and shook his head. "You wanted a woman, Erik. Relax, I've done this once or twice, she's in good hands," he reassured him calmly as he pushed down on the plunger, pumping some sort of vile fluid into the thing's body.

He withdrew the syringe and took a few steps back, placing himself beside Erik to watch his creation be born into the night. A tiny drop of dark blood had risen to the surface where the needle had pierced the skin, and as Erik watched, color blossomed from that one spot, just above her left breast.

Pale peach color flooded that ghastly white body, sweeping in all directions from the source above her heart. Erik and Victor watched in amazement as blood rushed to the creature's face, animating the dormant vessels there, filling the thin, leathery lips and plumping it's sunken cheeks.

As the creature's face filled with color and it's features became more distinct, Erik began to wonder if indeed the master of the future world was standing there beside him in the warmth of his rich study. _'I've never witnessed anything so…'_

Hair rapidly began to grow from the creature's head; long, vibrant locks of hair- an unexpected shade of flame red that made an especially striking contrast against the white of the sofa cushion and the girl's clothing. Lashes of almost cartoonish length grew in quickly, creating dark fans over her flushed cheeks. Eyebrows formed, and then drew together as a subtle frown came over her face.

She moved, her limbs seeming to spasm at first before she gained control. Her hands clenched in and out of fists, her bare feet stretched, her toes spread wide before drawing back together. Her chest began to rise and fall as she took her first visible breaths.

Victor allowed himself a rare half-smile, "Even after so many, it still gives me a little thrill to watch them come alive like this." He glanced at Erik beside him, who appeared awed, completely out of his depth. "Don't look so shell-shocked, Erik! How did you think I created them, on a factory assembly-line?"

Erik fumbled for words.

Victor rolled his eyes. "If that's how you talk when in the presence of a beautiful woman, then it's no wonder you haven't found anyone," Victor nudged Erik forward, towards the couch where the girl seemed to be struggling into awareness. "Go to her, Erik. I promise, she won't be afraid of you."

He shoved Erik a little more forcefully, urging him to the woman on his sofa. Erik stepped forward and kneeled beside her. She was working her head back and forth; he could see her eyes moving furiously beneath her lids, as if she were struggling to awaken from a REM sleep state.

Then, suddenly, she gasped loudly, and rose to rest on her elbows. She opened her eyes and looked directly at Erik. He started back; her eyes had remained the sick, waxy white- no iris, no pupil. She blinked rapidly, and color began to fill in, sweeping away the white background with deep pools of seaglass green.

Erik had never met such a compelling gaze before.

She stared at him for several long moments before her gaze met with Victor's. She stared at him as well, but she did not move; in fact, her breathing had deepened, she remained very still and patient. Victor took a step forward. "You recognize me," he stated.

The girl, newly born into the world, nodded with such reverence that Erik felt compelled to do the same. Victor nodded. "I gave you a life just now, and you will spend the rest of it in service to this man," Victor stated confidently, gesturing to Erik. "This is Erik Latour. You belong to him now, always remember that."

The girl looked from Victor to this strange man before her, this Erik Latour, and she smiled. Erik felt his heartbeat quicken. The lifeless thing had become an alarmingly beautiful girl in a matter of minutes, and she'd just smiled at him without hesitancy or judgment. She was certainly the first to ever grant him such immediate acceptance.

Victor nodded and turned to Erik. He withdrew a small book from his jacket. "Here, just a few collected observations and information that you'll find helpful,"

Erik took the book and raised an eyebrow at him curiously. "Information? You mean to tell me that you've created a woman and developed a manual on how to deal with her?"

Victor shrugged, oozing arrogance. "There are a great many men who would kiss my feet in gratitude for doing just that!" He laughed. "Women are inherently complicated- I've simplified things for both sexes, and the world will soon be a better place because of it."

He glanced at his watch. "Well, Erik, it's been pleasant, but we really must be going,"

Erik's eyes widened, "What? You're leaving so soon?"

"Yes. As you know, I am a busy man. I have evidence to destroy, a facility to relocate, and thousands of my creations were misplaced in the storm; I have my flock to look after, Erik. You have what you wanted, and this trip has taken up enough of my time. I expect your payment to be transferred into my account by 3:30 sharp tomorrow afternoon. I'll email you with the details. Oh, and if you decide to skip out on the check, all it takes is a phone call." Victor warned.

Off Erik's confused look, Victor ticked his head in the direction of the girl. "I'll have her kill you, and then have her self-destruct. It only takes a few words. I value your talent, Erik, but you're not worth anything to me if you can't contribute to my future facilities. Keep that thought in mind, and remember, you offered me triple the amount mentioned in your message, and I expect nothing less."

Erik nodded, and with a few more parting words- some reassuring and some threatening- Victor and his two hulks left his home. Erik turned back to the girl who watched him from the sofa, and he stared back at her. He glanced at his hand and realized that the small book had a few loose papers wedged in between the pages. Curious but feeling very awkward with her eyes fixated on him, Erik opened the book and pulled out the extra papers.

A birth certificate and a social security card were among the first things that caught his eye. Erik read through them as he stood there in the middle of the room, under the eyes of the girl, the flames in the hearth being his only light.

He read her name and then set the papers back into the book. Tentatively stepping forward, Erik came around the sofa and sat down beside her. "Good evening, Christine."


	3. Small Talk

**Author's Note: I think the modern revision of the story is going pretty well. Thank you for the reviews, I appreciate every last one. Christine's appearance in this story was inspired by the character of Laure in the upcoming film Perfume: Story of a Murderer. Enjoy!**

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Erik sat beside Christine for a few moments, absorbing her newly formed face into his memory. She was beautiful, but more than that, she was _unique_. He realized that he was staring, and dropped his eyes, feeling foolish and awkward. What could he say to her? He'd witnessed her birth here on the sofa by the light of his fireplace, he was a witness to her coming into life.

He glanced back up to her and realized that he hardly knew what to say for his own ignorance about her and Victor's processes. She had been intelligent enough to understand Victor when he had spoken to her, and she had nodded her response to him. Erik had not yet heard her speak- could she talk? And if she could speak, what knowledge did she have of the world?

Erik suddenly wondered if he'd been given a very pretty, yet very brainless woman.

_'Well, when in doubt…'_

He cleared his throat. "Ah, Christine. I'm sorry, I'm not being a very gracious host. Could I get anything for you?"

Several long moments passed. Erik could see the understanding in her eyes, he knew her mind was at work, but she wasn't saying anything.

He continued, "I have wine, if you'd like…" he wondered briefly if this creature could be trusted to imbibe. "If you're hungry, I'd be more than happy to make something for you,"

Still, she did not speak.

Erik ran a frustrated hand through his hair, though he was careful not to upset his mask. "Can you speak?" He asked her. "Can you even understand anything that I'm saying to you?"

Christine took a sudden deep breath. "Yes, I can understand."

Erik's eyes widened at her swift response. Christine gave him a small smile. "I…why didn't you answer me?"

"I was trying to ascertain what language you were using, and the best way to respond. Thank you, Erik, but I am not hungry at the moment. May I serve anything for you?" She asked.

Erik felt the uncomfortable sinking feeling in his stomach begin to dissipate. Christine made no mention at all of his mask; if anything, she seemed amused and more interested in taking care of him. Quite a first for a man so alone in the world.

"Ah, no, I'm not in need of anything. May we speak?" He asked, thinking back on her words.

Christine turned to face him more fully on the sofa. "Yes, of course."

She was bizarrely polite and composed before him. Erik took a deep breath. "You mentioned that you were trying to ascertain my language; are you fluent in anything other than the English tongue?"

Christine nodded. "Yes. My appearance is an upgrade of the usual European design, hence I was engineered to function freely in a multicultural yet highly Caucasian environment. My knowledge download consisted of fluency in contemporary French, German, Italian, English and Gaelic."

Erik willed his jaw not to drop from all that she'd just said. "You mean you…_you know_ what you are?"

Christine shrugged. "Yes. Victor created us to be aware of ourselves, including our origins. We are all of us unique, created in a specific image. Victor chose me for you because he knew that you had a preference for European women."

Erik sat back into the sofa and took a deep breath. He felt a headache coming on. "Erik?"

"Yes, Christine?" He asked wearily.

"May I ask you a question?"

"I want you to feel free to ask me anything, Christine."

"Where are we?"

Erik worked his jaw. "We are in England, hence the English. I…what do you know of why you're here?"

Christine ticked her head to the side, considering his question. "You were there when Victor told me of my purpose. I am here to serve you, to make you happy. My knowledge downloads had several chapters dedicated to the subject of interaction between the sexes."

Erik frowned slightly at the ease with which she spoke of such alien things as her downloaded knowledge and the concept of her own creation. "I don't know what to say to that," he admitted sheepishly.

Christine moved closer to him suddenly, and placed her small hand on his knee in a gesture of comfort. "I understand, Erik. From what I understand, you might be confused. What do you think of me?"

Erik stared down at her hand that rested so innocently on him, and thought that it felt pleasant in a completely new way. " I…I'm not sure, Christine. I've never before see anything like what Victor did to create you, and here you are talking about mind downloads…it's all just a little overwhelming."

"I am meant for your comfort, Erik. If speaking of such things upsets you, we can discuss it at a different time. I'll tell you whatever you want to know, whenever you wish to know it. You need only ask. It might be easier if you simply pretend that I am a regular woman, or you might consult the book Victor gave to you. That way you could get the answers to your questions from a more objective source." Christine rattled out.

Erik glanced to the coffee table before them, were he'd set the book. He took a deep breath. "I do wish to know more about you, but it's a little jarring to have you speak of it so frankly. I think I will take a look at his manual a little later."

_'What the hell was I thinking? I was living a dream- in reality I am not prepared for a real woman, but a woman of the New Race? She is too open, too beautiful!'_

Christine moved even closer to him on the sofa, and Erik was only too aware of the intimacy in the study, nestled together with only the fire to light the room. She moved closer and closer, until her body was flush against his. She rested against his chest, tucking her head beneath his chin. "I understand that this is such a shock, you are perhaps the first to know of us- do not worry, Erik. Victor gave me my life's purpose, and I will fulfill it."

Erik glanced down at the young woman resting against him. She was so lovely and warm and so _real_ that he could forget for a few minutes what she truly was. At that moment, she was not a creature or creation, she was just a woman, the first that Erik had ever held in his arms.

He spanned her waist with his hands and then let them roam up the length of her back. He took a lock of her flame hair and held it up to the light. Lovely. Erik held her for a few long moments before pulling back so that he might look into her alarming green eyes. Her face was so open, so trusting and assured.

"Are you real?"

"Yes, Erik." She smiled at his question.

He took a deep breath and touched her cheek with the backs of his fingers, the way he'd seen lovers do countless times and had always yearned to do himself. "You are beautiful, I'd never dreamed that…," he stopped himself when he felt his voice crack. It was all too much. He'd been ready to die tonight by revealing to Victor who he was and what he knew, all in the pursuit of this dream of love. He'd witnessed the transformation of a waxy, lifeless thing turn into this vision before him.

_Christine, my Christine…_


	4. The Lady of the House

Erik stared at the ceiling of his study and wondered if last night had been some kind of alcohol-inspired nightmare. He hadn't really met _the_ Dr. Frankenstein, had he? And there had been no bizarre transformation of a lifeless white body into a woman, had there? No, no. It is too ridiculous…

Only, it wasn't.

Erik knew that it had all been real. Frankenstein had given him a woman, and that woman, Christine, was sleeping in his bed. They had talked last night of many different things in a direct attempt by Erik to not be overwhelmed by the information she was to eager to bestow upon him about the gestation periods of those like her, and the genetic implanting that resulted in one eye color or another.

Personally, Erik didn't care to know the ins and outs of all that- what mattered to him was that he had a woman under his roof, a beautiful woman who, from her first moments in life, had treated him as a man. He owed her everything just for the conversation the night before.

Christine had put him at ease. Amazingly, they had laughed together. The hour had grown late, however, and Erik had realized that there was nowhere to put her, so he'd insisted that she sleep in his room.

_'A woman in my bed for the first time, but it's nothing like I've always hoped it would be. We both slept alone last night, though I can't recall if I even slept at all…I can't tell my dreams apart from my real life anymore'_

The realization that he was so unprepared for Christine had occurred to Erik last night with all the subtlety of a jackhammer. The girl had no wardrobe other than the white shirt and low-slung white pants that she had arrived in. Despite himself, Erik had noticed that Christine wore no shoes and no underwear beneath her clothes.

He kicked himself for being so remiss, but then again, he hadn't actually known that Frankenstein would actually come through for him- there had been an equal chance that Victor would just kill him as there had that he would capitulate to Erik's demand.

_'Did you think that Christine would just spring out of a box to love you, and come along with all the accessories? She was made, but that doesn't mean she's a doll. Even a doll's clothes and shoes come sold separately, why would she be any different?'_

Erik shook his head. He didn't want to think of Christine as a doll or a creation or as anything less than human. According to Victor, Christine was more advanced than any man that had come before her. Stronger, faster, more intelligent…she was far more kind and accepting than any woman Erik had ever met, and that was all that mattered to him.

They had spoken for hours the night before- of the mundane, of the fantastic. Surprisingly, he'd learned that she had opinions and preferences. In the back of his mind, Erik had wondered if she had been…_pre-programmed_ to like or dislike certain things. Christine had picked up on his curiosity, and explained that her mind was her own: the knowledge downloads were objective information, Christine and most of those like her were free to form their own thoughts as part of the learning process; however, even if they had come to disagree with Victor's vision, they were powerless to oppose him directly.

After that, Erik had steered the conversation away from Frankenstein- if he had questions, he would consult the book. He swung his legs down to the floor so that he could sit up and take a quick look before checking in on Christine. The opening pages consisted of some general observations of the subjects while they were in their…unaware stage of life.

Erik flipped through, and hoped the rest of the book wasn't altogether too disturbing…he had serious questions and concerns; he couldn't let his own discomfort become an obstacle. Erik had paid Victor to create a female companion for him, and Christine had proven herself to be more than he could have ever hoped for. He would be _goddamned_ if he did anything that could inadvertently harm or even so much as upset her now.

Erik didn't know where to start; it was morning, he thought that Christine might be hungry, but what could he feed her? Could she even eat normal food? Erik flipped a few pages past the notes on the unaware phase, past the notes on color variations in skin tone and eye color…

'**Because of the advanced metabolism in the new lines, they all possess voracious everyday appetites and are in dire need of strong protein and iron within 24hrs. of initiation…'**

Erik snapped the book shut and set it back on the table. _'Voracious appetite? Christine_ _must be starving by now!'_ He stood up from the sofa and started back, nearly stumbling over his own feet. Christine was standing directly before him!

"Agh, Christine! What are you- I didn't hear you come in, how did you do that, how long have you been standing there?" He demanded as his heart pounded in his chest. Erik felt like a fool to have been so unaware of her presence, and to be so startled by the girl.

Christine's hair and clothes were slightly rumpled, but her eyes showed no sign of weariness. "I'm sorry I scared you, Erik. It won't happen again, I promise that in the future I will announce myself. I…I was watching you."

His eyebrows lifted. "I wasn't _scared_…I was just startled. Why were you watching me?"

A casual shrug of her shoulders. "I just wanted to see you as you were when alone. You have an interesting mask, Erik, but I hope that in time you will trust me enough to see the face underneath,"

'_Does she just speak whatever thought occurs to her mind? She is so honest and open with me, as if we are married!'_ The thought of buying a ring for Christine had occurred to him as he'd stayed up during the night, but he had dismissed the idea. Erik felt that marriage was a true union; he couldn't bring himself to give a ring to a woman just for the sake of appearances- especially when he couldn't be sure if Christine was even capable of understanding the concept of love…

Erik touched his mask. "Well, all things in time, eh, Christine? You haven't even been here a full day, which reminds me, I need to feed you." He winced at his last statement.

_' "I need to feed you"?! She's not your pet, you idiot! God, she must think I'm a complete fool…'_

"Oh, that would be lovely, if you only show me to your kitchen I can make us breakfast," she agreed happily, her seaglass eyes seeming to glow at the mention of food.

Erik shook his head. "You are my guest, I should be the one to cook-"

Christine came forward to him and placed a hand on his chest. Erik felt something turn over inside; at the touch of her hand, a pleasant, soft feeling of warmth washed over him. His disagreement died on his tongue. _'What is she doing to me?'_

"Erik, how many years have you been alone? I'll admit something to you: I did not go directly to sleep last night. I looked through your things. I'm sorry, but I had to know. You've been alone for years- there is no clue to family or to other women. Let me cook for you, let me take care of you. It is my purpose, you remember?"

Christine smiled at him, and Erik hesitantly lifted his hand to rest over hers. "All right, Christine. If that is what you truly want,"

"It is. Erik?"

"Yes Christine?"

"Could you give me a tour of your house, please? My cognitive map only reaches between the study and your bedroom,"

Erik gave her an odd look. "I…um, yes. Let me show you around a bit."

* * *

The new female presence in his home had not gone unnoticed.

Besides himself, there were two other residents that roamed within Erik's large town house. Daniel Mayfair had acted as his personal attendant for over ten years, and since she had completed her university education, his daughter Joan had joined the household.

As he led her into the kitchen, Erik was confronted with two suspicious pairs of eyes. As friends, they were overprotective of his feelings. He had been hurt before, and the consequences had almost brought down the house. He cleared his throat. "I…good morning, Joan, Mayfair. I'd like you both to meet Christine Daae. She's my…she's to be the new lady of the house," he finished uneasily.

Joan and Mayfair often acted as a pair- they were similar in their appearance and expressions. They both shared the same sandy brown hair and smoked hazel eyes, and at the announcement of Erik's new paramour, father and daughter both shared the same expression of surprise.

They looked at each other first, before Joan nodded as Mayfair was silently elected the first to speak. He stood from the table and moved forward with an outstretched hand although the smile on his face was strained. "Um, hello there," he greeted uneasily. Christine smiled and shook his hand.

"Hello, it's nice to meet you, Mr. Mayfair," she greeted happily. Erik watched from the side as they both assessed each other. He felt apprehensive, as if there might be some visible giveaway on Christine's too perfect face that would alert Mayfair of her difference from them.

Thankfully, he saw that Mayfair genuinely returned Christine's smile. "The pleasure is all mine, miss Daae,"

"Oh, Christine, please," she said, dazzling the room with her smile. Her seaglass eyes held Mayfair enthralled before she shifted her gaze to Joan, who was still seated at the large breakfast table. Christine showed no hesitancy, there was confidence in every step as she walked straight over to Joan and thrust her hand toward her. "Good morning Joan, how are you?"

Joan looked Christine up and down with heavy, obvious scrutiny. She pointedly ignored Christine's hand before flicking her glance to Erik, and gave Christine a tiny, tight smile. "Hello," she said crisply before standing from the table and swiftly leaving the kitchen. She was out of the house a moment later, the door slamming behind her.

Christine turned to Erik, the first signs of distress crossing her face. "Erik, I'm sorry, I don't know what I did wrong,"

Erik moved to her and placed his hands over her shoulders. "No, no, Christine. You were fine," he soothed. He could never understand what she had been through, but this had been Christine's first meeting with people outside of the tiny circle who knew what she really was. Erik moved his hands slightly, moving so that his thumb rubbed the edge of her collarbone, while his other hand cupped her face.

Erik surprised himself by kissing her cheek. It was a gesture meant for her comfort as much as to satisfy his own curiosity- he'd been wondering how she would react to him, if she would ever allow him to…

_Now is not the time!_

There was genuine worry in Christine's eyes, as if she'd failed some great test and disappointed him horribly. "I promise, you did wonderfully. I'll tell you the truth, I was nervous at first, but everything went perfectly. Mayfair and Joan were just surprised, that's all. I mean, yesterday, there was no one, and now today, here you are, I called you the lady of the house," Erik told her soothingly. He smiled, something he rarely did, in the hopes of having her smile again. "I meant it. You have a home here with me,"

A tear had escaped the corner of her eye, and Christine quickly brushed it away. She took a few quick breaths to steady herself; the slight redness around her eyes and nostrils dissipated almost instantly, leaving her skin as smooth and white as Italian marble. Erik tried not to look as surprised as he felt- the evidence of her upset has disappeared in moments, she truly was superhuman!

Erik guided her to the table. "Please, sit down, Christine. I'll make you breakfast. I…mm, I read in Victor's notes that you might be in need of protein and iron soon." Erik said. If he was to somehow build a life with this amazing young woman, he knew that they would need to communicate freely about the mysteries that only Christine knew about herself.

He glanced over at her in time to see her nod. "Yes, the fluid that he gave me…you saw that, didn't you? You watched Victor inject me; he brought me to life on your sofa. From what I understand, not everyone is born that way." She said softly, almost as if to herself. She turned her wondrous eyes to Erik, and gave him a small smile. "We're all in desperate need of protein and iron sometime within the first day, just to build up our strength after the fluid infuses our muscles."

Erik nodded. "I understand. How does a plate of eggs and sausage sound to you?"

Christine traced the pattern of the tablecloth with the tip of her long pale index finger. "You might want to study Victor's notes a little closer, Erik. To start, I'll need about four plates,"

Erik raised his brow, but he didn't attempt to refute her words. He trusted that she knew her own body better than he ever could. "Right then. Four plates it is,"


	5. A Wonderful Girl

Erik watched in awe as Christine finished the last bite of her fourth helping to breakfast. At first he had thought that she was exaggerating about her need for food, but as per her suggestion, he had gone back to check Victor's notebook to find that, despite her svelte frame, she could eat at least four times as much as he could. It was necessary for her to consume so much in order to keep up with her hummingbird of a metabolism.

He had believed her to be a normal woman, but Victor's notes hinted that her internal anatomy was somewhat above average. Erik had closed the book then, feeling a little too rattled to go on reading, and then he'd gone back to Christine. Why bother with notes when the real thing was in his kitchen?

"I think I should take you shopping," he said. Christine had risen to put her plate in the sink and was washing it off. She turned around to him and Erik registered that she actually looked surprised.

"You want to take me outside?"

"Yes. You need clothes, shoes. Ladies usually wear…ah, certain undergarments that Victor apparently did not see fit to give to you," Erik finished.

Christine smiled at him and tucked a lock of her fiery hair behind her ear. Her eyes lit up and she smiled broadly at him, dazzling him all over again. "You're blushing, Erik. Do I make you uncomfortable?"

Erik sighed and tried not to become irritated. "No, no. I'm just not used to women, that's all." He said, feeling foolish. He knew that Christine was in no position to judge his level of experience, being only one day old, but it still embarrassed him to admit that at his age he was little more than a green schoolboy. "In any case, what kind of man would I be if I didn't take you out for the day? I want to spend even more time with you. I don't want to just know about you, I want to know you."

Christine dried her plate and set it into the cupboard. She stared at him for a long moment, assessing him again. "I like your clothes. They're dark but not depressive. I want clothes like that,"

Erik smiled a little. His Christine was almost like a child; she was so open with her words- truly, she was a breath of fresh air. There were no lies or silly secrets between them, save for what his mask kept hidden, but the girl had promised not to touch it.

Erik let his eyes slide down from her face to roam the length of her body. She was all toned muscle and feminine curves, topped by the face of Venus. No, Christine was not a child at all.

* * *

The shopping trip wasn't as Erik had expected. In his idle daydreamings, he had always assumed to be dragged in and out of shops by his nameless, faceless mistress. He'd had no practical experience to go by, but he had listened to enough of Mayfair's stories to understand what he could expect.

He was pleasantly surprised that he actually enjoyed taking Christine out. She made him proud in her selection of clothes, and he was witness to her own developing personality. She was gaining a sense of style with every piece of clothing purchased. He had watched her as she made her selections- holding up the material to study its color, running her hand over it to gain a sense of its texture.

To test her, Erik had paused outside of a store window and pretended to admire the outfit on display.

It was hideous- a miniskirt that could have passed for a headband paired with a sheer tube top that, if worn by an actual person and not a mannequin, would have been completely transparent. Sky-high heels completed the ensemble.

"You would have me wear that?" Christine had asked in an obvious show of surprise.

Erik glanced down at her. "Do you like it?"

Her pretty nose wrinkled and she shook her head.

Erik smiled at her. "I'm glad to see that some taste was included in your knowledge downloads,"

Her jade eyes widened. "That's the first time you've mentioned anything about where I came from without looking ill," she joked.

He shrugged, "You're a part of my life now. A large part, I can't let myself become uncomfortable with anything about you,"

Christine touched her hand to his chest, and Erik felt the familiar warmth spread through him again, lifting the cares and worries from his mind. He put his hand over hers. "Come with me Christine, I want to show you the whole city,"

The day had wore on for several hours, and by then even Christine was beginning to show small signs of fatigue. Erik was happy; in their time together, they had shopped like a real couple. To anyone else, it appeared that they cared for each other very much, and Erik had to admit that he was coming to care for the girl a great deal.

She had only mentioned his mask once, but then had said nothing more about it. No doubt her sharp eyes had seen the odd looks they'd received in and outside of the stores; a man in a mask could be up to something- robbery or perhaps even violence. Christine herself felt no embarrassment about being with Erik, and she ignored the others around them completely. She and Erik were the only ones in the world who mattered, as far as she was concerned.

When Erik had noticed that Christine was becoming pale and a bit run down, they had stepped into a café to lunch; Christine had cleaned her plate and half of Erik's, but he didn't mind a bit. After the meal her color had returned even brighter than before, and she was refreshed back to herself, devoted to Erik and his happiness.

The girl was daring in public, she had moved to take hold of his hand and had laced their fingers. Erik had felt the warmth cloud over him and he'd smiled proudly, the envy of every other man in the world.

They had returned home late, for Erik had insisted on taking Christine for a walk along the Thames River. She had taken his hand and put it around her shoulders, nuzzling in close to him. Erik hadn't cared about his mask or deformity then, or about Christine's horrific origins- as they had walked together under the icicle lights hanging over trees and benches, other men had watched Erik with jealousy for the uncommon beauty under his wing, and for the first time in his life Erik had felt ten feet tall.

All fantasy must come to an end, however, and the hour had grown late. Erik didn't want the magic to end, but he had a car trunk stuffed with parcels and shopping bags that needed to be unpacked into Christine's room, and the girl was appearing a little pale again, from her hunger.

He'd escorted her all around London, and he had the hope that she might come out with him again the next night. Erik put his arm around Christine as they began to walk up the path to the front door. "You're wonderful, Christine, you know that don't you?"

She laughed then, and turned her head to the hand that was resting on her shoulder. She brushed her lips against him, and then twisted herself out of his grasp, playfully. "I'm not so wonderful, Erik. I'm just a girl."

He looked at his hand where she had kissed him, and then he looked up at the girl with the luminous eyes and the cunning grin. "A wonderful girl," he breathed. He glanced back at the car, where her packages still needed to be taken upstairs. He could see lights within the house, Mayfair and Joan must still be awake. He didn't know why exactly, but he wanted to be the one who assisted Christine in settling into his home- he didn't want either of his housemates to see the things that he'd bought for her.

Christine was his private joy, he wanted to keep her to himself for as long as he could.

* * *

Together, they unpacked the mountains of shopping bags and shoeboxes, setting everything into its new place. Christine watched Erik carefully; at times she felt unsure of how to behave around him. She knew enough of him to understand that, save for his housemates, he had lived a solitary life. A life of great musical achievement, she knew, but if he had gone through the trouble of contacting Victor- if he had risked his life and the lives of his friends, then he must have been desperate for some kind of female companionship.

Within the infinite chambers of Christine's mind, she knew that Erik may very well have spent his whole life longing for a mate. She had been chosen by Victor to be that mate- to challenge Erik mentally, to arouse him sexually and to be an ever available companion. Victor had told her of her purpose, but Christine was aware enough of herself that she knew the responsibility was in her hands to fulfill her destiny, to bring this sad, strange man happiness.

Another might have seen the task as a burden, but Christine was aware of the world around them. She could see scarring at the very edge of Erik's mask, and she expected that anyone who dared to look would see a terrible face underneath it. She was essentially different- she understood the importance of physical beauty, but it ultimately did not effect her way of thinking towards Erik.

He was a genuine man, and perhaps even if Christine had not been assigned the task of befriending him, she had to admit that she would still adore his company. "Erik?"

He had just placed one of her jackets on a hanger, but he turned to look at her. "Yes, Christine?"

"Thank you for today. It was my first night out, you know, and it was wonderful,"

He gave her a wry half-smile, it was a fleeting expression, one of the few that she could distinguish with his mask. "It was wonderful because you made it wonderful, Christine."

"You say my name often."

"Does it bother you?"

"No. I like the way you say it. It sounds…important when you do," she said with a casual shrug of her shoulders. It was a gesture that she had picked up, Erik was sure, after they had gone through an electronics store and she had witnessed a film played against a wall of televisions, the same movement had been played across 30 screens and imprinted itself onto her. Already she had incorporated into her own body language.

Erik sat down on her bed and motioned for her to sit beside him, which she did without any hesitation at all. He was still unaccustomed to her immediate acceptance, but he was beginning to love her for it.

"I say your name in an important way because you are very important to me," he said truthfully. "You said yourself that just last night you realized that there had never been anyone in my life…"

Christine raised her hand and cupped the man's masked face, feeling a strong urge to comfort and reassure him. "Erik. Don't think about that lonely part of your life anymore. I'm here now, and here to stay."

"How sweet,"

Both Erik and Christine turned at the remark of the third voice. Joan stood in the doorway, her arms crossed over her chest. There was a definite glare to her demeanor as she glanced first at Christine and then at Erik.

Erik cleared his throat, "Hello Joan, what brings you here?"

The young woman shrugged in open nonchalance. "It's a little hard to sleep when you two are in here yapping and doing God knows what else," she said in irritation.

Christine had had many firsts within the space of one day- her first commands from Victor, her first conversation with Erik, her first dreams, her first meal and her first day out in London had been pure sensation; everything had been wonderful. Christine experienced another first when she decided that she did not like Joan.

Hadn't Christine been friendly in their first meeting? She had at least made the effort, but Joan had dismissed her, and now she was encroaching on Erik and Christine's privacy. Stores of information bubbled to the surface of her mind in how to deal with this situation. There were several options: she could find a way to irritate Joan even more, she could become angry with her, she could humiliate or she could ignore.

Christine stood from her bed and tossed a lock of her brilliant red hair over her shoulder, inwardly delighting at Joan's telltale narrowing of the eyes. The other girl was jealous of Christine's looks, that might be part of the reason she had been so cold that morning, but there had to be more…

"Is there anything that you want, or are you just in the mood to bother us?" Christine asked. Joan glared at her, but said nothing. Pride wounded, she turned back down the hallway.

Erik moved behind Christine and put his hands on her shoulders. She felt him lift a lock of her flame hair; he toyed with it for just a moment before he let it fall to join the remaining length down her back. He sighed in an indulgent way. "You don't like her, do you?"

Christine turned to face him. "I'm sorry Erik, but I just-"

He shook his head. "It's all right. I should have known that the two of you wouldn't get along. Just one more thing that I hadn't prepared for, aren't I brilliant?"

She couldn't help sharing a small laugh with him.

"I'm sorry you don't like her,"

She shook her head. "Well, you can't like everything. I was bound to find something or someone that I didn't like sooner or later,"

Erik nodded and retook his seat on the edge of her bed. He reached into a bag and withdrew a small, narrow box. "Yes, I suppose no one is immune to life's little annoyances, not even someone like you. Joan is jealous of you, but it will pass. Lord knows she's not one to consider anyone else's feelings, save for her own." Erik shook his head. "I'm sorry, nevermind I said that. I have something for you,"

He flipped open the box and withdrew a gold nameplate bracelet. Christine smiled as he secured it around her pale, delicate wrist. Her name was engraved in elegant script, accented with a tiny diamond. She smiled and pressed her palms over his chest, warming him, enveloping him in a golden wreath of comfort. "Thank you Erik, it's beautiful."

Erik's eyes slipped closed in the foreign pleasure of a woman's touch. He took one of her hands and brought it to his lips, kissed her palm. "You're what's beautiful. Christine, you are everything I hoped you would be. Charming, intelligent, brave…and you are very, very unique. I think we make a match,"

Christine could not disagree with him.


	6. Rings and Singing

"You don't care much for her, do you?"

"Oh, what ever gave you that idea?"

Mayfair sighed. "Joan, you're just trying to stir up trouble. Hasn't there been enough upset under this roof?"

Joan's back stiffened at her father's disapproving tone. She had dressed for the day in a smart suit, tailor cut, the navy shade very complimentary for the coloring of her eyes and hair. She had taken extra pains for her appearance before Erik- not that he'd noticed any change at all. He, whose eyes were constantly affixed to the siren that he'd brought into their home. Uninvited, unannounced, without any consideration for her at all.

She glared at Mayfair, feeling somehow betrayed, as if her father might prefer Christine over her. "What happened between Erik and I…it was never resolved. If I seem _upset_ then it's because he-"

Mayfair stood from his chair in the study and moved to join her by the window. "I know, honey, I know…but, he has Christine now,"

"Oh, for how long?! How long before she gets bored with him? How long before he sees that she's only hanging all over him for his money? How long before she sees his face and leaves him just like all the others?!" Joan demanded.

Mayfair put an arm around her. For all of Joan's hard exterior, she did care about Erik. She cared for him as much as she distrusted this unwelcome newcomer, Christine Daae.

"Joan dear, Erik's a grown man. We can't choose anything for him. He chose Christine, and for better or worse, she's here to stay. Now, come on Joan. No more of this, Erik can't be swayed. Let's go to dinner and try to enjoy this new addition to the family," Mayfair coaxed.

Joan rounded on him. "Don't call her that! She's not part of us- she's just a girl Erik found, she won't be here for long and you know it. How many "ladies of the house" have there been over the years? Five? Ten?"

Mayfair sighed. "Well. If Christine is meant to be just another one of those temporary arrangements, then what has you so angry?"

A fresh wave of despair washed over her. She sank down into her father's chair. "I'm angry because of the way she looks at him. Christine looks at him like he's her whole world, and Erik looks at her the same way. I'm hurt because it's the same way he used to look at me."

* * *

Christine had awoken early in the morning, alone in the guest room. For a moment she had remained in bed, lying on her back, her eyes roaming the room. She absorbed the images of the space- the walls were painted a fresh aquamarine, the room was a rectangular shape, a pair of French doors led out to a balcony with a twisted wrought iron railing. The linens of her bed and the breezy curtains were pure white. The floor was pale hardwood.

Erik's home was slightly out of place in London, a city of economy, efficiency and practicality. That was not to say that creative architecture did not have its place, but his Spanish-inspired villa was a special sight. It's bright tan exterior walls and red roof tiles stood out from its gray-bricked neighbors. Christine decided that she liked it very much; it was unique, like them.

There were gilded frames on the walls, holding little paintings of flowered landscapes and worldly landmarks. She recognized the Eiffel tower, the Great Wall of China, the Statue of Liberty, Big Ben. Christine rose to sit up in the center of her bed. The mattress beneath her was soft enough to be comforting, yet firm at the same time.

The knowledge downloads had informed her of nearly everything she could possibly encounter in the real world; but Christine had come to find that there was a difference between seeing a picture of a place and actually being there, from knowing what ingredients went into a dish of food and having your first taste, from knowing what a man was and actually coming to know Erik Latour.

Victor's creations were not designed to feel emotions as the Old Race- perhaps this is the very reason that so many things were starting to go wrong before the great hurricane that destroyed New Orleans and with it nearly all of his work. Christine knew that there were only a few of those like her that were able to actually feel- Victor's wife, Erika, was designed to feel shame and pain for his pleasure. Christine herself felt no shame- or perhaps she had just not come into a shameful situation yet.

Victor's creations were not meant to feel longing or desire, and yet Christine felt a strange longing for the world. She craved _experience_ above all else, even over her wish to please Erik. But, she had to wonder, if Victor had not given her life the purpose of pleasing Erik, would she still wish to do so if she had the choice?

Christine had already decided that she liked Erik very much, so it did not mean much to her whether or not her decision was based on Victor's first command or if her liking of him was genuine. Still, she wondered about it.

The girl slipped out from beneath the white comforter and went to the balcony to get a look at the weather outside. The sky was still gray and cloudy; a subtle fog was over what she could see of London. Christine went to her closet and, after puzzling over what would please Erik most, she chose her outfit for the day. A tight sweater in a stunning shade of violent was sure to render her eyes and hair even more vibrant. She chose one of the new pairs of jeans that Erik had insisted to buy for her, and as she slipped them on and stretched her legs, she came to realize that, if given the choise between jeans or a skirt, she would choose the trousers unless the occasion called for otherwise.

Her personality, with all the inherent preferences and dislikes, her sense of humor and her emotions...her personality was growing. She could almost feel it.

Joan was puzzling to her. Christine understood that jealousy was a destructive emotion, and it was written all over the other woman's face whenever she laid eyes on her with Erik. Jealousy was also somewhat contagious. Christine felt more…_possessive_ of Erik whenever in Joan's presence, as if the sandy brunette might somehow take Erik away from her, and by taking him she would take away Christine's one purpose for being there, not only in London, but alive and in the world.

She shrugged to herself and dressed for the day. Christine was not afraid to compete with Joan, in fact it might be interesting to see how they could contend, the Old Race versus the New…but no, she didn't want things to come to that. Women who fought over a man's attentions were pathetic, Christine knew she was better than all that.

"Come in," she called to the knock on her door.

Erik tentatively peered into her room and caught sight of the fiery beauty beside the balcony. He nodded to himself in awed satisfaction, and wondered why he had ever hesitated in making his demands from Victor. It had been a risk, but this woman was worth his life; in a way he had given his life, his lonely, cold life, in exchange for this new beginning with her.

"Good morning, Christine," he greeted, earning himself a bright smile from her.

Christine crossed the room and came to him, lacing their fingers. "Good morning to you, Erik. Did you sleep well?"

He nodded and drew her out of her room, together they began to walk downstairs and toward the kitchen. "Yes, very well. Are you hungry?"

Christine nodded, "I wouldn't mind a bite. Would you like to do anything special today?"

Erik paused, "I should be the one asking you. There was nothing I had planned, though, anything you'd like to do would be fine by me,"

Christine's seaglass eyes gleamed at him. "Erik…I would like to go somewhere, if it's all right with you…"

"Yes?"

Christine stopped and Erik turned to face her in the hallway. "Would you mind terribly to bring me to the place where you work? I know that you are a musical prodigy, and I've never seen an opera before,"

Erik smiled, a tiny movement of lips, the only real part of Erik's face that she could see. His own eyes locked with hers from behind a dark mask, and he brought a hand forward to stroke a flame lock. "Christine, I would love for you to come to work with me today. It's a slow day, we're in between major productions now. I'd love to introduce you to some of the people there,"

Her brows rose a little at that. "Meaning you just want to show me off to them,"

Erik shrugged. "Well. Maybe just a little, I mean that is part of the fun of entering into a new relationship…or so I've heard. Anyway, I want to spend time with you more than anything else, taking you to meet others in my circle would be good for us."

Christine nodded and followed Erik into the kitchen, pausing only to lock eyes for a moment as Joan rose to leave from the table. The brunette glared at her, and Christine glared right back. Erik didn't catch the subtle exchange between the women, he only set to work in making breakfast for the one woman in his life.

* * *

Erik led the way to London Opera, a brilliant building located in a center square surrounded by privately owned art galleries and small, chic boutiques. There were several large flower arrangements set before the front of the building- Erik had always thought of them as being ostentatious, but as Christine moved away from him to touch a bloom, he changed his opinion.

The opera beckoned him, he took Christine's hand and led her into the lobby. He felt almost as if he were leading a wondrous child through the grand place as he pointed out one feature or another. Christine, his woman-child with wide eyes absorbed everything and smiled at every little oddity and quirk that he mentioned.

She looked around, but it seemed no one else was about. There were only small signs of other people in the building- fresh coffee brewing in a lounge, car keys set out on a tabletop. Erik squeezed her hand reassuringly and smiled at her, "Not a lot going on today, but they'll be building the new sets. Would you like to see the auditorium?"

"Of course, I want to see everything," she replied, happily following him down a side passageway. Erik strode in through a few more doorways, and within ten steps the narrow hallways opened up into a magnificently huge theater. Her seaglass eyes widened at the scope of the grand open space.

Erik watched her awed reaction with more than a bit of pride. He may not have been the one to build the London opera, but anyone who was at all involved would agree, Erik _is_ London opera. Composer, costume designer, artist, musician, technician, coordinator…his life was meant for music. It was all he was.

Until now.

He knew that Christine carried with her an immeasurable impact on his life; he had felt it from the moment she had opened her eyes and looked at him without a trace of fear. There were people about on stage, arranging set pieces, and from their place by the front entrance they could hear the tuning of all instruments. Erik stood just a bit taller with Christine by his side- they had not gone unnoticed by others of the company, curious eyes turned to look as they moved forward to the stage.

"Morning there, Erik!"

He looked up to find one of the managers on the stage, supervising the set construction. "Great day for rehearsals, isn't it? Who's your pretty friend?"

A touch of anger sparked in Erik's eyes, but he dismissed it. Christine was too beautiful to go unnoticed by others, especially men. He would have to learn to expect this reaction, but all the same his need to stake claim on her was very strong.

"This is Christine Daae, she's my…" That thought gave him pause. They had never discussed how they would address their relationship to each other; obviously the truth was out of the question. What was she to him? Wife? Girlfriend? Mistress? Flatmate or friend?

Christine sensed Erik's hesitation and stepped in to save him. "I'm his fiancé!" she affirmed happily, grasping his hand to show their connection.

"Engaged, Erik? Good God man, you know how to keep a secret! When did this come about?"

Erik glanced at Christine, his eyes full of gratitude and something else that Christine had no way to identify. His thumb stroked over the top of her hand before he looked up to the stage. "I…well, yes Charlie. It all happened a little fast. I only asked her to marry me this morning," Erik said, their story forming in his mind quickly.

Luckily, Christine caught on and joined him, quickly covering the most important detail. "Yes, he's swept me off my feet. He brought me here to share the news, and later we'll go for rings,"

Erik glanced at her again, amazement showing in the set of his lips and the flash of his eyes. '_So quick to create this story for us! I'll buy her the ring within the next hour, I could never hope to find another woman half as wonderful. No man will ever have such pride in his wife as I...'_

Charlie nodded and came off the stage to meet them. Christine quickly assessed him. He was an older man, but his years did not diminish his handsome face. Dark hair with streaks of silver topped his angular face. Not as tall as Erik, but still taller than her. He smiled as he came forward and he shook Erik's hand.

"Congratulations, my boy!" He said, clapping him on the back. "It's about bloody time you settled down, and what a pretty bird you've landed," Charlie said as he turned his admiring eyes to Christine. He moved to her and took her hand into both of his. Erik saw the man's expression change from jovial to utterly enthralled.

Erik didn't like that.

Charlie's eyes were wide as they locked with hers, and it seemed to Erik that he was caressing her hand. He suppressed the urge to step forward and growl when Charlie raised a hand and actually had the nerve to stroke a flame lock of her hair. "Such bold color," he said. "You must be pure Celt,"

Christine nodded, instantly recalling the origins listed in her doctored birth certificate. "Oh yes, all of my family have red hair,"

Charlie smiled. "Well, if you happen to have an older, single sister…"

"She doesn't. Thank you, Charlie," Erik said quickly, feeling oddly jealous and protective. He put a hand on Christine's shoulder and led her to the stairs, leaving Charlie watching after them.

"He likes me," Christine said as they climbed the stairs to the stage.

"A little too much, if you ask me," Erik snapped. "If every man should behave that way upon meeting you, I should have you locked up at home and keep you all to myself,"

Christine paused, the very idea shocked her. If he gave her such an order, she might be compelled to obey him- but, to remain trapped in their home? Deprived of the experience she craved, deprived of the experience that she needed to survive…how could Erik even utter such a thing? Didn't he know what would happen to her if she were to be contained in such a way?

She stopped, and Erik went on for a few more steps before he realized that she was not in step beside him. He turned back to her. "You would do that to me?" she asked, startling herself by the fear and accusation in her voice.

Erik tilted his head to the side. "I…no, it was just…nevermind, I didn't mean it Christine. I'm sorry, I was just-"

"Jealous?"

He sighed. "Yes. Jealous. Please excuse me about that,"

Christine kept her eyes on his. "You must never keep me contained in such a way, Erik. What were you trying to show me?"

Erik frowned at her words, but he glanced around the stage. "I…music, I suppose. And, later today we'll go for rings, as you said."

There were people milling around them, everyone was working and hardly took notice as the two of them spoke together. Christine looked over to the side and saw a piano. "Music, Erik. Can you play that?" She asked, pointing.

He smiled. "You know I can. What about you, Christine? Are you able to play?"

She shrugged. "Well, my knowledge downloads did have a musical imprint-"

Erik raised a hand, "Ah, all right, say no more," he said, glancing around them nervously to make sure that no one took notice of what she'd said. Luckily, everyone seemed too absorbed in their work.

He took her hand and lead her over to the corner of the stage, where the company piano seemed to be waiting for them. Erik recalled that there was to be a recital that night, the prize-winning students from the London Observatory were hosting a gala.

Quickly, he moved behind the piano bench and began to play a tune. Christine followed him and stood in the curve of the grand instrument. Erik was impressed as he watched her take a singing stance- if he hadn't known better, he might have thought that she'd been trained by a professional for years.

Anticipation gripped him as he played. The young woman possessed otherworldly beauty, and an amazing acceptance of him that Erik still could not understand. His heart longed to hear the girl sing; his fingers pressed over the keys, tensing as he waited for the vocal cue. He watched with wide, bright eyes as Christine drew in a breath and raised her chin. All at once, her voice rang out into the theater, loud and bold.

Erik's hands jumbled the notes on the piano, jolted into shock by what he was hearing.

Christine…she was _awful!_


	7. Imperfect

Erik walked briskly down a main street of London, mere blocks away from the opera, with Christine happily by his side. He'd been quiet since her solo on the stage, and as he glanced over to her he had to shake his head slightly at the irony of the world.

'_Her siren song can shatter glass!_'

Her voice had been truly inhuman; a bizarre screech so horribly off-key and so enormously loud that his hands had instinctively flown from the piano keys to clamp over his ears for protection. Erik had once thought himself so trained and so steeped in worldly experience that there was no sound that could surprise him.

How wrong he'd been!

Christine's voice was amazing, a sound he'd never heard before and one he wished never to hear again. His ears were still ringing painfully and he actually paused a moment to wonder if she'd damaged him permanently. Erik had not been the only one to abhor her voice, everyone in the theater had clamped hands over their ears and groaned- he'd quickly called for Christine to stop singing and as far as Erik could tell, she hadn't seen anything wrong with her voice and as he'd quickly hustled her from the opera stage she had simply followed him in her usual bright and happy way.

Her hand was in his, their fingers laced. Erik looked down and saw that she had deliberately matched her footsteps to his. She was teasing him.

"You didn't like my song, did you?"

Erik paused there on the street and moved her to a bench. The ringing in his ears was still strong enough to muffle her words, but he could understand her well enough to manage a talk.

He felt slightly uneasy; it was so far Christine's only fault, and it hurt him that this one fault had fallen into the area of life that he'd held most sacred. Erik didn't want to upset her, but he didn't want to lie- she had been completely open with him from the outset. "I…your voice is different,"

The seaglass eyes narrowed. "Different? You don't say that in a good way,"

'_Is there any way to say this without hurting her?'_

He took a deep breath. "Your voice is…well, you might benefit from a little training. I could train you at the house if you'd like,"

Christine was obviously disappointed in herself. She'd been brought into life for the only purpose of making this man happy; the Creator had told her. She liked Erik and he'd been hoping that her voice might match her physical beauty, but she had failed him.

There was a tension building in the corners of her eyes, but she forced the physical proof of her upset away. Crying made Erik uncomfortable. "I'm sorry,"

The statement caught him off guard, and he blinked. "You're sorry? For what?"

A shrug of her narrow shoulders, "For not being perfect,"

Erik felt taken aback, stunned by her sincere answer. Did she think that she was somehow diminished in his eyes because of her voice? Perhaps he had been hoping for a lovely dulcet soprano, but his affection for her went beyond the dashed dream of training London's next great diva…

She was beautiful, kind, intelligent and incomparably unique in the world. Could she truly think that one flaw ended everything they were trying to build? Erik put a hand over hers. "Christine, such an imperfection is nothing in comparison to how wonderful you are. There is no such thing as perfection and if I can make one unbreakable promise to you, it is this: my imperfections will always far outweigh yours."

"You mean your mask."

"I mean the reason why I wear it, among others. I won't show you if I can help it, and certainly not outside in broad daylight. Didn't I say something about our rings?" Erik asked, hoping to reestablish the focus of their day. Erik stood up and offered her his hand.

Christine took his hand and together they continued their walk down the street, with Erik leading the way towards an elegant jewelry store. She knew that it had been his aim to reassure her, but Christine wasn't like him. She was a human being created, not a human born.

Victor had created his race to be perfect, and yet she was not.

* * *

"I think they're beautiful," she said as she marveled at their rings. 

Erik noticed that the spring was back in Christine's step as they made their way home. An engagement ring was looped over her fourth finger; a platinum setting crowned with a precise blue diamond that shined prettily in the sun whenever she moved her delicate hand. It seemed that their great minds thought alike- upon entering the store, their eyes had instantly fixated on the case containing the ring.

It had been no trouble at all for Erik to buy it for her, and he'd bought himself a thick gold band as well. He glanced down at his own hand and felt almost lightheaded at the enormity of what they'd just done. To all who looked upon them, they were engaged, living together, practically married already.

Erik looped his arm through Christine's so that they might walk as a true couple in love. She smiled brightly and he noticed the proud tilt to her chin whenever others passed them on the street. There were many curious glances thrown their way, who wouldn't cast a look over this strange couple, the tall masked man and his odd albeit beautiful companion?

"You're what's beautiful Christine. These rings are just metal and stone, we don't need them, but I'm honored to know that you wear it for me," he said as he squeezed her hand.

She laughed, "You do like to show off, Erik. You think that I haven't noticed the way you walk taller when other men look at me? I'm for you alone,"

He felt a bit of color rise to his visible cheek. Was there a way to make her understand him without revealing his face? All his life he'd longed for the pride of a beautiful woman genuinely happy to be seen on his arm. From what he'd read in the small book her maker had left behind, Erik knew that Victor's race sought perfection in most things. The fact that Christine cannot sing is nothing; her face is whole while his is not; he is unforgivably hideous.

"I know you are. I- Christine, are you all right?"

Erik's brows knit together in confusion as she visibly paled before him. It was not only her face, which drained of color, but it was her hair and eyes as well! The deep scarlet of her hair faded several shades until what was left could barely scrape by as strawberry blonde, her eyes as well lifted to pale minty green, miles away from the intense turquoise Erik had come to love.

Christine lifted an eyebrow and frowned at him, unsure of what he meant. Curious, she pulled a mirrored compact from her purse and looked at herself. If Erik was not mistaken, her face went even lighter, almost reverting to the waxy paraffin complexion that she'd had before Victor had infused her into life.

She snapped the compact shut and looked up at the man who felt at a complete loss. "I'm fine, Erik, really. I'm just hungry," she said evenly, her voice steady and calm.

He nodded and glanced around to see that he was not the only one noticing how quickly the girl before him was essentially fading away. "Hungry. All right, let's get you home, and fast, I'll make any meal you'd like. Just…hold on, please,"

There was a certain tremor in his voice, usually so certain and serene, but now Erik appeared as if he was moments away from a panic. Christine felt a slight pain in her stomach- hunger- but otherwise she felt all right. She lifted a hand to Erik's sleeve to reassure him, but she realized that her fingers were suddenly numb.

_'What's happening to me?'_

She was not afraid, merely uncertain. _Let Erik believe that this is a common reaction in the New_ _Race to hunger, do not upset him_. Christine had learned many things in her few days living as a normal woman loved by a man; she'd seen great things, been to great places and indulged in as many experiences as she'd been able. This was a new experience for her: she was lying to Erik to reassure him.

The man quickly hailed a cab and cradled her as the car made its way back towards Erik's home. Once they'd reached the gates Erik led her inside and directed her to the dining room table. His hands were shaking, but he managed to throw a large meal together for her and he sat across from her to watch her eat.

"Oh, thank God," he breathed.

Christine rose from the table to look at her reflected self in a mirror on the wall. Erik was right; color was returning to her quickly, bleeding to fill in the faded areas of her face, eyes and hair.

"How are you feeling?"

Christine turned to him. "I feel much better now. I'm sorry to have worried you,"

Erik let out a faint, insincere laugh. "I was a little more than worried," he said. "I was absolutely terrified for you. Are you sure you're all right?"

Christine nodded. "Yes, I'm feeling all right but I think I might need to lay down for a while."

He nodded. "Yes, of course. I understand."

Together they mounted the stairs and Erik let her into her room. He'd been so happy to have her in his home, simply under his roof, but now he was unwilling to let her out of his sight.

Christine stepped into her room and went to the dresser to select her night set for bed. Unmindful of him, she began to change her clothes, stripping herself bare before stepping into a deep green chemise nightgown. Erik felt his body tighten at the sight of her, but there was no way that he would approach her now, not after the events of the day.

He was surprised at how worried he'd been, the thought of losing this bright young girl had clenched his chest with dread. There was a soft haze of adoration slowly enveloping Erik, he could feel it grow stronger with each smile Christine bestowed upon him. He wanted it all: a true marriage, a lover, a wife. He looked down at his ring and then glanced over to catch sight of hers as well. Yes, a wife.

"Would you like to come to bed with me?" Christine asked as she settled under the covers. Erik had followed her to the doorway of her room but he had not crossed over the threshold. She was for him, Erik could have her whenever he pleased, but Christine sensed something was holding him back. He'd only watched as she changed her clothes, he had not even come forward for a closer look.

She wondered if she was not appealing to him, a thought that only fueled her anxiety over these newfound imperfections. But perhaps she was not the only one to be as afflicted by these insecurities; hadn't she been created for Erik because his face prevented him from pursuing women freely? Hadn't he bought her for the simple fact that she would be unable to reject him like all the others?

And still he did not approach her. Erik remained by the door and shook his head. "I…it's not a good idea tonight, Christine. I want to allow you to rest. I'll see you in the morning."

Erik nodded goodnight to her and shut the door behind himself, leaving Christine alone. Truth be told, she was not ready to sleep just yet. He mind was too restless with worry over herself and these horrible imperfections. The singing took next to no priority over her fading color earlier in the day. Why had that happened? She knew that it was unheard of. Victor's creations were perfect, this was not meant to be.

Christine rose from the bed and paced, letting her thoughts fly on everything she knew of her origins. She could find no recollection of a thing like this happening. Erik had provided her with a vanity table, and she quickly went to sit down. Her hands began to twitch, so she reached for a brush and ran it quickly through her hair.

_'What is happening to me. This is unheard of! I am perfect, a supreme being of the New Race, it shouldn't be this way!'_

Earlier in the day Christine had forced her emotions beneath the surface. They rose now, and fell down her cheeks in a stinging salt rain.


	8. The Unexplored

Christine felt a great sense of relief as her symptoms had not reoccurred since the day that Erik had taken her out to his opera house. She was grateful that she had not suffered them again, but the simple fact that she had suffered any symptoms of any kind, ever, had unsettled her deeply.

Why had her color faded so drastically? What was wrong with her that her voice was so terrible?

It had been Victor's vision to remove all that held humanity back from it's potential to perfection. She knew that nothing should be happening to her, nothing so drastic, in any case. She'd been worried that Erik might reject her, but his behavior towards her had only gentled.

He blamed himself for what had happened, and told her that he would take a few days off from work to spend with her alone in the house to be sure that she was really and truly all right.

Christine searched for terms to describe his behavior: protective, gentle, sweet. His production was complete. Erik's purpose as the composer was to perfect the music; once the stage design, wardrobe and vocalists were ready, Erik was granted time off until rehearsals for the next production began. It was an unusual arrangement, but the man's skill had guaranteed that he would have an iron fist of control over his own work schedule.

Christine knew that Erik had been worried over her, but as much as she liked Erik to remain close she didn't want to feel as if he thought of her as an invalid. Since that day, nothing else had happened, not even a sneeze. She wondered if perhaps it had been a strange fluke.

"Erik, you really don't need to fawn over me. I feel fine," she said as he worked the stove to make her lunch.

Erik glanced over to her. "I may not have to, but would you believe me if I said that I enjoyed taking care of you?"

Christine shrugged, "I don't know. Have you always taken care of the women you've been with in the past?" It wasn't a subject that they'd yet spoken of, but Christine was curious. It only seemed fair- Erik had known her from the moment of her birth, everything that she'd so far experienced had been with him. He was different from her; the man possessed an entire lifetime's worth of secrets that she knew nothing of.

Erik glanced over. "…my other women. There was only one before you, Christine. Joan. But that has been over for years, I promise you. It wasn't a good situation. You, however, I enjoy taking care of you immensely. You might not understand, but men like to feel needed."

Christine nodded, recalling the downloads regarding gender interactions. "I know. Men like to feel strong. They like to feel dominant, especially in sex,"

Erik dropped a mixing spoon. "I…what did you say?"

She blinked and smiled at the color that rose to his visible cheek. "Are you embarrassed?" The emotion was a foreign feeling to her, and didn't completely understand why people felt so reluctant to broach such subjects. Wouldn't the world be a better place if everyone were compelled to be open and honest with each other?

He sputtered for a moment before clearing his throat and furrowing his brow. "No, I'm not embarrassed. Just a little surprised that you would bring it up so openly."

She shrugged. "I'm not embarrassed by anything. I want to know why you've been holding back from me." Though physically less than a year old, Christine's body was that of a young woman and, as per Victor's design, she also had certain urges that required a man's fulfillment.

"I'm not holding back- I've talked to you more than I've spoken to anyone-"

"You keep yourself from me. We talk, but that's all we do. You paid the Creator for a woman and you haven't done anything with me yet," Christine pointed out. She was toying with him now, enjoying the power of making this man feel uncomfortable.

He wrung his hands together. "Why are you rushing this?"

"You've engaged us and there still hasn't been more than a handshake between us." Christine asserted. His avoidment was strange to her- did he not find her attractive anymore thanks to her bizarre symptoms? Christine was by no means a normal woman, but she felt insecure all the same. Her very survivl depended on Erik's desire of her.

"It wouldn't be right for me to force myself-"

"I like you. There would be no force unless you would like to enact a certain fetish." She stated clearly, recalling scenarios from her downloads.

He glared at her. "I've always hated men who hurt women. I would never hurt you,"

She nodded. "I believe you. Will you tell me about Joan?"

Erik took a step back from her. "Christine…that was complicated. I'd rather not go into it, but if you must know, yes, we do have a history. She had been separated from her man at the time. I…took advantage of that. I'm not proud of what happened between us, it was a disaster."

He set a few plates before her and watched as she began to eat. Christine's intense eyes bore into him. "Why did things not last between the two of you? Joan doesn't like me, you know. I think she might be jealous that you pay more attention to me."

Erik nodded and smiled in a strange way. "Things didn't last because I had been selfish in taking what did not belong to me. You are the most open and honest person that I have ever met. It's refreshing to just sit and talk with you like this, without any pretense."

"Will we ever do more than just talk?" She was both curious and anxious, though she could not explain why with any certainty. In the back of her mind, it felt as if a great clock had just began to churn into life, the great hands ticking to a countdown.

He sat back. "I would like to kiss you, if you would only let me. The rest will come in time."

Christine smiled. "I want you to kiss me. I was made to make you a happy man, Erik."

"You have, please believe me."

"Would you be happier if I could sing?"

Erik hesitated for a moment. "I would be happier if I knew more about you. But as with the rest, that too will come in time. We have all the time in the world to be together."

Christine nodded and averted her worried glance.


	9. Stay the Night

Erik led Christine upstairs, toward her bedroom. He meant only to see her have a restful night as he still worried over her, but Christine had other plans in store for them. Because her orders had come from Victor, the creator himself, it had been akin to being addressed by the voice of God.

She had belonged to Erik from the moment that she'd come alive, it was her life's purpose to make him happy. He wanted her, she could recognize the signs, however subtle, but she knew that he had been put off by her imperfections. The fact that she had any imperfections at all was very disturbing to her, but she could never put herself before the task handed to her by Victor.

Erik had been a lonely man, so lonely that he'd essentially bought her. He'd bought a friend, a fiancé, a companion. She had grown to like him very much in the time that they'd been together, and she found the thought of continually sleeping alone to be somehow depressing.

They reached the door and Erik remained in the hallway as she stepped across the threshold to prepare for bed. She turned to him, "Erik?"

He stood there, watching her and wringing his hands together in agitation. "Yes, Christine?"

"Will you sleep with me tonight?"

He stopped. "You…I shouldn't. I told you, it's too early for that-"

She settled her eyes on him. Erik was still concerned and as he believed himself to be somehow less deserving of a woman's comfort, he didn't want to get too close. Christine was feeling much better after having eaten, and she remembered what Erik had said downstairs in the kitchen.

"Will you just kiss me and sleep beside me? If you can't find me attractive anymore-"

Erik's eyes widened and he stepped into the room to take her by the shoulders, "Christine, what are you talking about? You are the most wonderful woman that I've ever met. I don't care about your singing, but I admit that I was very afraid for you when…when…"

"When I faded. I told you not to worry, it happens sometimes when we haven't eaten," she said.

The lie tasted horrible on her tongue.

"Yes. I've come to care for you very much, can you understand that?" He asked her earnestly.

She nodded, and brought her hands up to touch his. Immediately, Erik felt her golden warmth spread over his skin. His focus wavered slightly and he closed his eyes for a moment to bask in the abject pleasure he felt at such a simple touch. "I can understand you very easily, Erik. I feel the same, don't be afraid to show me,"

Before Erik could open his eyes, Christine rose on her toes and brushed her lips over his. The strange, golden warmth he so often felt when she touched his arm or his hands spread over him fully, blooming from where Christine's lips burned against his.

She brought her arms around him and at once Erik felt slightly dazed, overcome from the pure pleasure he felt from her touch. When she pulled from him, Erik was a changed man. His eyes held hers, "Christine, you're wonderful,"

She laughed at that, "Will you sleep beside me tonight?"

Erik felt weak in the knees from her kiss, but he was able to catch his breath and nod to her, "Yes…God, Christine, I can't take you now, it wouldn't be right, do you understand?"

She slightly rolled her eyes. Christine could understand Erik- he was no longer worried over her health, she's just proven how resilient she was. Erik's fears lay within himself, even now he feared her reaction to his naked face and, Christine assumed, his naked body.

"Yes, Erik. But which room should we share?" She asked.

Erik felt heat rise to his face. "I've never slept in this room before. I was hoping that the night we share my room might be the night that we…come together…"

He was blushing, embarrassed. Christine brought her arms around him. "No, Erik, I think it's a wonderful idea. Go change your clothes, and I'll change mine. By the time you come back, I'll be in bed, waiting for you,"

Erik felt himself nod and leave the room, his entire body still slightly dazed from the glory of her kiss.

* * *

Erik returned after a few minutes, and as promised, Christine was already beneath the covers. She looked up and smiled at him, her seaglass eyes flashing in the soft lighting from overhead. He looked down at himself- he wore his usual night attire of dark flannel pants and nothing else. He hoped that she wasn't offended by his exposed torso, scarred as it was.

"I'm sorry, I'll put on a shirt you'd rather-"

Christine sat up and spread her arms to him, gesturing for him to come toward the bed, toward her. In doing so, she revealed her dainty nightgown, acquired only days earlier. "No, Erik, no. Come here, I want to see you,"

He stepped forward slowly, and got into the bed with much hesitation. Erik lay beside her, nervous and unsure of what he should do. For whatever reason, Christine was suddenly eager to engage in physical love, but Erik felt it to be too soon. No, he would not take Christine this night, but her kiss…

Christine rose to lean on her elbow beside him. Erik watched her face as her eyes roamed over his chest, as if she'd never seen a half-naked man before…had she?

She locked eyes with him, and raised her hand, "May I?"

Erik felt his throat go suddenly dry. "I…yes, feel free,"

Christine set her palm flat against his chest and she could feel his fluttering heartbeat. His heat radiated up her arm, almost burning. She watched as his eyes closed and his strange mouth graced into a small, pleased smile. How long had it been since he'd felt a woman's hands on him? She frowned at the thought that Joan's hands had touched him before hers.

Her fingertips glided over his skin, memorizing the contours of his chest, the smooth, puckered texture of his scars. Christine had knowledge of tissue scarring, though she had none of her own to touch. Erik's skin was darker than hers, she was exceedingly pale. Victor had designed her to be unique, but Erik was unique by his own efforts. Her curious hands found darker hair trailing from his chest down to his stomach, beneath the waist of his clothing.

"We're very different, aren't we?" Christine asked.

Erik's eyes opened. "Yes. I don't think I'd be nearly so drawn if you looked just like me," he said teasingly.

"You are drawn to me?"

"Yes, of course I am. You are a remarkable young woman, you know." Erik said, reaching to cup her face. "May I?"

Christine smiled and allowed herself to be pulled in for a kiss. Erik had been passive in their first, but he was more assertive now. His lips were soft against hers, caressing and strong. He had experience where Christine had none; the knowledge that she did have was detached, impersonal.

Erik released her then, and brought her to rest against him. Christine nestled her head into the crook of his arm, and she brought her hand to rest against his chest once more, while his arms encircled her waist. He thought that she fit against him very well.

As he held her in the night, he began to realize that her skin was cool to the touch.


	10. Plans In The Making

It had been several more days, and Erik had taken kindly to Christine's coaxing that he sleep in her bed, and indulge in kissing her. He had come to admit to himself that the sinking feeling in his stomach, the fluttering of his heart, the tension in his temples- he felt that he was learning to love.

_A curious thing, love is,_ he thought to himself as Christine slept beside him. _This girl is kind, beautiful and genuine- yet she is not real. But what is real? If she is here in my arms, if she kisses me, then that would make her more real than any woman I've ever dreamed of…_

Erik looked at the rings on their fingers, and thought of how he might have a wedding- Christine in a sheath of pure white silk and lace, a pure siren angel if he'd ever envisioned one. The wedding would be a small affair, he had no taste for anything so overdone as a Catholic wedding.

Mayfair had always been a devout man of the church, as had Joan, though she was adept at finding loopholes in the faith. Erik frowned. He hadn't thought that Joan would have been such a problem; after she had put a stop to their affair, she had hardly cast him a second look since. As they had more or less ignored each other for so long a time, Erik had seen no reason for her to take offense to Christine being in the house.

He found himself to be a very foolish man.

Upon meeting, they had come within a hair's breath of attacking each other. Joan hardly registered Erik's notice any longer, but he cared too much for Mayfair to let his only child be ripped apart by Victor's creation. Erik had stolen quick glances at the book Victor had left behind, and found that, among Christine's other interesting abilities, she could block the receptor sites in her brain that allowed her to feel any pain.

That, coupled with her superior strength made for one hell of a woman to reckon with.

Erik wished for no violence in his home, he only wanted for the comfort he felt in Christine to spread throughout his home. He wondered if Christine could feel love, in the way that he understood it. She had confided that she liked him for himself, which was more than Joan had been able to give him. His time with her had come about to satisfy her own curiosity and arouse the jealousy of one of her beaus at the time.

_No more, no more…_

Erik held Christine close to him, but her skin was very cold. She was colder than any living person should be. The room was not drafty, and though he held her beneath the covers, her skin remained disturbingly cool. Her breathing continued evenly, she was not dead, but she was too cool to feel alive.

It made him nervous; the image of her fading colors remained strong in his mind. Erik didn't kid himself that it was a normal occurrence, and he didn't believe Christine's lies that it was simply 'something that happened' when she was hungry. There was something wrong with Christine.

Erik knew that something had to be done to help her, and soon, but he had no idea what.

* * *

"What are you reading there, Christine?" Erik asked as he strode into the study. He'd awoken alone in the morning, and found her curled in a chair by the window with a large picture book in her lap.

She looked up, her seaglass eyes lighting up as she saw him come in. "Oh, Erik, good morning. I'm sorry I didn't wake you, but I thought that you might have wanted to sleep in a little."

Erik shrugged, "No worries, I don't mind. What book is that?"

"It's a picture book of the city of New Orleans, where Victor-"

"Ah, yes, I know all about that," Erik nodded. Christine filled him only with happiness, but the memory of his only meeting with the man that had made her often chilled him with dread, though he couldn't understand why. "It's a pity that so much of his…operation was damaged."

Christine shrugged. "Not all of it. He was able to salvage some of us, the New Race, I mean."

Erik nodded. "Yes, I know what you meant."

She turned her attention back to the book in her lap. "This city was so…original, it's hard to believe that so much was destroyed in the flood,"

Erik had nothing to say- he was not familiar with America, the damage done to a city he'd never seen was of no real concern to him, but perhaps Christine had thought of it as the place of her birth rather than his home.

"Could we ever visit there?"

He moved to sit down, and brought her close so that she could settle into his lap with her book. She had marked a page with a large picture and a smaller caption of the famous Garden District. She turned another page to show a view from over the entire city.

"It's so big," she breathed.

Erik pressed his lips to her temple and tucked the crown of her head beneath his chin. "I don't think it would be a good time to visit now, but if you're bored with London we can go somewhere else,"

Christine turned to him, "I'm not bored, I promise I'm not. I'd just…well, I'd just like to see more of the world, that's all."

He smiled. "I understand. You have a wandering spirit, like me. I haven't traveled much, but then I've never had anyone to enjoy the world with me."

"You still could have gone off for a holiday,"

Erik shrugged. "Perhaps, but I'd rather take a holiday with you,"

She smiled and laughed a bit. "I'm flattered."

"Are there any places that you would like to see in particular? Here in Europe, or anywhere else in America?" Erik asked, quickly warming to the idea of taking a vacation where they could be alone, just the two of them.

Erik had easily learned that any amount of money would have people able to forget his mask, it would be no hassle.

Christine brushed her lips against his, briefly, and Erik felt a touch of the intoxicating warmth- his beautiful, golden woman…

"Anywhere you like, Christine," he breathed against her.

"I like the water, but the weather is…dreary here. I'd like to see America, if it's all right with you. Maybe somewhere with a beach?" Christine asked.

Erik cradled her in his lap, one hand one her waist and the other over her leg. He pulled her closer; unconsciously, his thumb began to trace circles on her knee. Suddenly bold with the vision in mind of Christine in a bathing suit, Erik pressed a kiss to her throat.

Christine turned to bring her hands over his shoulders and allowed Erik to kiss her deeply, she thrilled to his touch.

Through knowledge downloads, implanted memories and other assorted features that made the New Race, they had instincts as well. Instincts to survive at all cost, instincts to aid self-preservation and ward off perceived threats.

It was instinct that had Christine unconsciously pulling back towards Victor.


	11. Getting Prepared

"You're leaving? Where?"

Erik opened his suitcase and turned toward the doorway of his bedroom. Joan was there, glaring at him, frustrated with his dismissive answers.

_There was once a time when I would have bent over backwards just to see you smile,_ _and_ _you made me do it every time_. Erik thought. _You used me to make your fiancé jealous, and to what end? He ended it with you anyway, and now it's years later and you act as if I owe anything to you. I do not, least of all my travel plans._

He moved across the room and selected a few casual items from the closet, folded them, and placed them into his case. "I am taking Christine to America. California. She wants to see the beach. We'll be staying at the Four Seasons hotel in Los Angeles, I'll leave the contact information with Mayfair."

"You're taking her with you on holiday?"

Erik turned around to face her fully. "Is there any reason why I shouldn't?"

Joan stepped inside and closed the door behind her. "Erik. You barely know her, how can you do all this? Ask her to move into the house, take her all around London, and now a holiday?! You were never like this with m- all of your other girlfriends, so why her?"

He regarded her levelly. Jealousy colored her words and her eyes. Joan was still very pretty, and when it suited her she could be very pleasant. Erik had almost forgotten how kind and funny she could be- ever since Christine's arrival, Joan had been hissing and sullen. Erik brought a hand up and cupped Joan's face, tilting it up until her eyes met his.

He spoke slowly, deliberately. "I can do these things with Christine because I love her. Stop acting as if you are so betrayed, Joan, please. Your attitude has tried my nerves- what we had ended years ago, and it ended because of you. I don't like to be toyed with, least of all by a girl who would happily use a close friend of her father's to manipulate a boyfriend."

Erik released her and took a step back.

Joan glared. "That was years ago- I've realized the mistake I made,"

"Did you realize your mistake before or after seeing how close I am with Christine?"

Joan fumbled for an answer.

Erik nodded. "I thought so. Now, as you said, that was years ago. It's time for you to move on, Joan, as I have."

He stepped around her and opened the door to his bedroom, indicating her to leave. Christine appeared in the doorway, her fiery tresses mussed, the camisole and skimpy shorts clung to her pale, svelte frame. Erik smiled instantly at the sight of her, so sensual and lovely.

"Good morning, Erik. Why didn't you wake me?"

Joan made a strange sound of disgust and exasperation as she stepped past Christine and moved downstairs, out of their sight. Christine looked at Erik. "What's wrong with her now?"

Erik shook his head. "The green-eyed monster has taken hold, as usual. I think she wants me to have you replaced and come to California with me,"

Her eyes widened and Christine gripped his wrist. "You wouldn't do that, would you?"

His eyes narrowed slightly in pain- Christine's tiny hand had clamped over his wrist, her strength would not allow him to move until she chose to release him. The memory of Victor's writings, asserting his creations' intense physical strength, briefly flashed through Erik's mind.

Delicately, he peeled her fingers from his wrist. There would be bruises later, he was sure of it. "No, Christine," Erik said, bringing her into his bedroom and closing the door. He brought his arms around her and breathed in the scent of her hair. "You're the only one I want. Do you believe me?"

He felt her nod against his chest, so he stroked her hair. Even after all this time, the vibrancy of her color still fascinated him.

"Good," Erik said as he released her, patting her on the bottom before he could stop himself. It was a gesture between lovers- as yet, they were not.

Christine smiled at him playfully, teasing him with her eyes, but she didn't mention it. She only squeezed his arms, kissed his cheek and left. "I'm going to start packing my own bag," she said, and then disappeared back into her own bedroom.

Erik staggered back to sit on his bed beside the suitcase. The girl was too much, practically begging him to take her every night that he's slept beside her. It wasn't that Erik had no desire, in fact his desire was an ache burning through his entire body. He only wanted things to be perfect.

Taking Christine just because she's assured him that she was ready wouldn't be special at all, it wouldn't be…_meaningful_. Erik never gave much thought to champagne and roses, but he at least wanted the first time with Christine to have some sense of meaning. He loved her for herself- beauty, intelligence, kindness, her ability to make him laugh…she was different, and he gave no thought to her origins.

Aside from her show of strength just then, Christine had appeared as herself. No other odd occurrences had happened- Erik's sole hope was that everything would mend itself, given enough time.

He'd purchased tickets online, they would arrive in Los Angeles the next morning, and spend two weeks under the bright California sun. Perhaps there, away from the pressures of a jealous Joan, and away from the memories of Christine's body draining of color…perhaps there, Erik would take the final step and claim her as his.

The thought warmed his blood, and Erik moved quickly to finish packing.

* * *

In her room, mere feet away from Erik, Christine was selecting her clothing for the trip. Her knowledge of California was a bit limited to begin with, but Erik had allowed her the use of his computer to broaden her mind. California was very hot, very exciting and very expensive.

A movie-star capitol of the world, Los Angeles was strictly divided amongst itself- posh, designer clothing stores and restaurants commingled with impoverished, gang-infested neighborhoods. All of this set out on a strip of prime coastline.

Christine was excited- there in California, she would have Erik to herself, and no longer have to share him with Joan, Mayfair and all the rest of London.

She quickly washed herself and brought out a pair of jeans, shoes and a shirt to wear. She admired herself in the full length mirror, adjusting her hair as needed. _I think this trip is just what we need; some time alone will be perfect. It's like a honeymoon!_ she thought happily.

Christine felt a sudden wave of dizziness and nausea pass over her, but dismissed it, as she had for two weeks already, and went back to Erik's room to help him pack for their trip.


	12. Unveiling

Erik looked over at Christine. Their long flight was finally coming to an end, about to land at the LAX airport in Los Angeles, California. From there they would collect their luggage and head straight to the beachfront hotel. Erik had never been on the far west side of the United States before. Rarely did his travels take him out of Europe, and even in the few times he had visited the States had he made time to play the tourist.

_There's a first time for everything_, he supposed. Christine had slept for most of the flight, mentioning something about a stomachache, and so Erik had left her well enough alone. He didn't mind; while Christine slept Erik was free to chat up the lady in the seat across the aisle from his, and also relax to watch one of several in-flight movies.

His red siren did not stir once in between takeoff or landing. Erik shook her shoulder to rouse her, and Christine yawned delicately as she stretched out her arms and began to roll her neck from side to side, alerting the stiff muscles.

She blinked her eyes free of sleep and smiled dreamily at him. "Hello Erik,"

He reached out to touch her cheek. "Hello Christine. The plane will be landing soon, are you all right?"

She nodded. "Yes, I feel fine. Aren't you excited? This will be wonderful!"

Erik smiled and kissed her.

* * *

The hotel was beautiful, and boasted the best room service on the entire west coast. Christine didn't bother to compare the different tastes of British and American foods, she only ate with deep and appreciative appetite. Erik was out on the balcony, staring out over the bright, sunny ocean shore.

She ate quickly, for Christine wanted very much to swim in that ocean, to walk on the sand with Erik. Minutes later, once her plates were clean, and Christine felt more herself, she went out and joined Erik on the balcony. "Isn't it beautiful?"

He nodded and put his arms around her waist as she leaned back against him. He kissed the delicate spot just beneath her ear. "Yes, it's beautiful, as you are."

"Can we go down there, please?"

No sooner than Erik said, "Of course," was Christine clad in a new bikini and running towards the waves like a child. Erik watched her with a great smile, it was wonderful to see her so animated and playful. Christine was so happy!

The jade bikini set off her hair like a flame, she was positively painful to look at. Erik stood on the shore, watching her in his swim trunks. She disappeared under a wave, only to bounce back to the surface a moment later. She beckoned him to come into the water with her.

Erik glanced around- the beach was quiet, it was not the full tourist season. There was no crowd to fear. How could he resist her call to him? He could not.

He felt his legs carry him across the burning sand, until his feet were firmly planted on the ocean's edge. Erik hesitated going further- the water would lift his mask, and Christine had not yet seen his face, the one reason he'd been left with no choice but to ultimately buy a woman to share his life.

He stared at the waves rolling in towards him. Christine emerged from the water and began to walk towards him, her stride strong and purposeful. She did not pause in her steps until she was well within his intimate space. Her lips touched his, and her eyes gleamed in the strong California sun.

"Erik, take off your mask. There's no one else here, please show me," she breathed against him.

He felt compelled by her words, and he was so tired of holding back, of hiding from her. "Christine…I don't want you to be…"

"I won't!" She returned powerfully. "You've seen greater horrors from me, when I came into existence, when I…when I faded on the street. Erik, I already care for you. Your face can't change that."

Erik closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. He brought his arms around Christine and kissed her deeply, as if it might be their last. She returned his kiss fully and drew back from him, eager to see her man in full.

After taking a careful look around the beach, Erik realized that they were well and truly alone.

_Stop stalling for time! She will think you both hideous _and_ a coward if you cannot show her your face like a man!_

With a great determination, before he could stop himself, Erik pulled the mask from his face.

Christine stared at him a moment, and then snatched the mask from his hand, and hurled it into the bright Pacific blue.


	13. Intention

**Author's Note: So sorry for the long update, but with writing a few other stories, working full time, searching for a new apartment and trying to make plans to go back to school later in the year...well, sometimes it's the innocent update that suffers, but I promise not to slack off any more!**

* * *

It was oddly freeing not to be wearing the mask that had, for decades, been a nonnegotiable piece in his wardrobe, not to mention a fixture in his life. Erik had never imagined Christine's bold move of taking the mask from him and then tossing it so easily into the sea. He'd stood on the shore, dumbfounded, as he watched the stark white face drift down below the surface.

The girl had only smiled brightly and turned to kiss him full on the lips, not caring at all about his face. Erik could not recall a happier moment than when he'd begun to return her kiss and Christine had grasped his neck. He'd lifted her and swung her about in a circle, right there on the empty beach.

_How many silly films of romance depicted a similar scene? Too many to count, but today it had been real- Christine kissed me! Beautiful, kind, intelligent, humorous and just so wonderful!_

Erik's dreamy thoughts swirled about his head for a moment as he looked out over the shore from the balcony of their hotel suite. He'd always heard that a woman's love could inspire such confidence in a man that even when at his lowest, he would still manage to feel on top of the world. Erik had to agree!

He'd never known much acceptance in his life, save for the few people closest to him, but no woman had ever loved him that way that Christine had just that afternoon. He took in a deep breath of salted sea air.

_She didn't say the words, but words are useless to me now! She kissed me, with my face naked in the sun- she cares for me. I don't care if I never hear her say the words, I don't care to hear 'I love you', such a trivial phrase; Christine, you beautiful woman, don't ever tell me you love me, just kiss me and don't ever ask me to wear a mask when I'm with you…_

"Erik?"

He turned to see Christine in the suite. His heart leapt at the sight of her gentle, pretty face. She was smiling at him, looking into his eyes as if there were absolutely nothing wrong with the way he looked!

"Yes, Christine?"

He saw that she had changed into a more casual pair of jeans and a tank top. She moved forward and kissed him. "Do you mind if I step out for a little while?"

He shook his head, "No, you don't have to ask my permission. Where are you going?"

Christine shrugged, "I just want to do a little shopping, and I know you don't want to be around for that," she winked.

Erik kissed her, allowing their lips to linger. His arms came around her, bringing their bodies closer. "You won't be too long?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm just stepping out for something special."

He nodded, and drew back from her. "All right, I won't keep you. But hurry back, love."

Christine nodded, kissed him and then took her purse. She winked at him playfully over her shoulder as she left.

Erik flopped onto the couch and rubbed his temples; he missed her already!

* * *

Christine made quick work of her shopping trip. Truly, it was a sort of cover- she didn't need any more clothes, Christine only needed to be away from Erik for a time. There was no guilt on her conscience, for she had not lied to him, she'd only omitted a bit of truth.

Shopping had been accomplished. To keep appearances, Christine had stepped into a shop and bought the first lacy thing that caught her eye- but her true intent had nothing to do with clothes.

There was something wrong with her, she knew it with a bone-deep certainty. Christine was a human created, not born- she was unique in that she knew and understood her own origins, her potential and even her limits. She was of the New Race, a race of Victor's creation, for he planned to remake the world in an image devoid of war, of petty squabbling of any kind.

It would be a world in which humanity would no longer be held back by itself.

Victor had not given a name to his people, save for the title of New Race. As a creation, as a member of this race, Christine's body was meant to be perfect; a nutritionist's dream, she was meant to be healthy in every way.

The odd symptoms she had gone through were far and away from a simple virus. Christine had no knowledge of anyone ever losing color in their skin, eyes and hair because of hunger. She'd often felt uncomfortably dizzy and nauseous as well.

She had no idea what could be wrong with her, and so instinct compelled her to find the man that did.

Christine was determined to find Victor.


	14. Victor's Final Solution

Seeing Victor was for Christine, akin to speaking with God- though the man before her was much less impressive than any deity mentioned throughout the various religions around the world.

He was not especially tall or muscular, his looks were not outstanding. He was plain, so boring in appearance that he was almost unattractive. She could not help but to compare him to Erik, and found that her man trumped over Victor in every way but one.

Erik could not fix her.

For all his riches, his caring and his natural inelligence, Erik had neither the ability nor the understanding to help. Victor, with his sinister devices and the cold, scientific eyes with which he looked at the world, was her creator. Victor was God- he had created a better, stronger race of beings. It had taken him over fifteen decades to reach the point where he was poised for taking control, and yet for all his efforts, his race was not yet perfect.

Christine was the walking evidence of imperfection, but she was not the worst case to date. He stared at her, considering. Really, she was the least of his troubles- she was nothing.

He could dispose of her, then dispose of Erik Latour and those that knew him just to be safe. Victor could do anything he set his mind to- he'd had centuries to prove that truth.

But, his eyes ran over Christine's charts, and began to consider a different course of action. There were bigger threats to worry about, weren't there? O'Connor and Maddison might have been taken care of in the hurricane, but there was no doubt in his mind that Deucalion was still out there waiting for an opportunity to strike him- although, to what end? If the beast even tried to lay a hand on him, he could cripple himself.

'_I've never once regretted those failsafes,_ he thought.

Glancing back at Christine, the svelte redhead he'd designed for Latour, he began to think of her as a little puzzle. A few pieces were out of place, causing these symptoms. The horrible singing wasn't any concern to him, but the fading pigment? No. That problem would gain too much attention, especially if it happened again in the eyes of the public.

His beings were meant to be- first and foremost- a model of health. They were never meant to be sick, never meant to be tested by civilian medical workers- as rudimentary as all other facilities were, the blood of the New Race could not compare to that of their predecessors.

It would have only taken one mistake to reveal his entire operation.

"Christine. As I'm sure you know, I have been developing a transfer process." He informed her as he set aside some notes.

Christine nodded. Victor was of the old race, but he'd long ago began the search for a way to join his people as the only worthy race on the planet. It would be foolish to have created a race and not become a part of it himself; his own centuries-old body had undergone extreme wear and tear, the constant reparations were becoming tedious and exhaustive.

"We've made some headway, great success with the lab animals. I've not yet authorized a test on a human. From what I'm seeing here," he gestured to the test notes, "Your body is making a slow degeneration. My people tell me that the hurricane caused significant damage to one of the holding tank facilities before the levees ever broke. Debris from the windstorm might have caused a power outage to the building in the most critical of stages, the-"

"Gestation period. Yes, Victor." Christine nodded, feeling a heavy sense of dread settling in her stomach.

"Smart girl," he nodded. "Damage to your nerves has been causing the loss of sensation in your limbs, an infection in your digestive track has been causing the pains in your stomach…and as of right now we have no concrete explanation for your pigment loss, although several of those who shared your tank have been experiencing the same symptoms."

Christine swallowed the information, and she looked to her creator. "Can you fix me, Victor?"

"There are few options, and you know the first."

She nodded, her seaglass eyes fading slightly. The first option was as cold as it was effective- Victor would kill her and destroy her body to eliminate any evidence. He would either leave her as nothing but a fading memory or he would replace her with a replicate. Christine couldn't stomach either thought- as artificial was she was, the will to live, to survive at all costs was a constant with all living things.

"The other option is that I use you as the first in the transfer experiment. I'd have another body prepared, one from the new lab facility. It would look the same, sound the same…essentially, it'd be a new you. Complete with the standard knowledge downloads paired with all that you've experienced in your time with Latour. Given the severity of your problems, it would be wise to go forward with this procedure as soon as possible."

She took a deep breath, considering. "Is there anything I should do to prepare?"

He shrugged. "Well, if there is anything you haven't done, you should do it tonight. I'll be ready to operate tomorrow morning."

Christine nodded her understanding and moved to leave his new California office.

"Oh, and Christine?"

She turned, "Yes, Victor?"

"Don't tell Erik."

* * *

When Christine returned to the hotel, it was already dark. She clutched her shopping bag tightly in her hand, and stepped into their room. The first thing that caught her eyes was a table set up with dinner for two, complete with newly lit candles.

She stepped in closer. The food was elegant, and still very hot. She could see the steam rising from their plates. She nodded to herself, glad that she had made it back on time. Erik would not have been pleased if she'd been late in coming back to him.

But where was he?

"Oh, Christine, I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come in,"

She turned to find Erik in the doorway to the bathroom, naked but for the towel around his hips. Christine couldn't help but absorb him, her man and no one else's. She smiled. "Yes, Erik, I just came back. This is lovely," she said, gesturing to the table.

He shook his head. "You're what's lovely. I'll be right out. Have a seat, you can start without me if you'd like."

He slipped back into the bathroom and Christine sat down to sip the glass of wine that was set out. She put her shopping bag under her chair. She could hear Erik moving about in the bathroom, putting on his clothes. A moment later he emerged and came to sit across from her at the table.

Christine took a fork and they began to eat in silence for a few minutes, though they caught each other's eyes and smiled across the twin flames of the candles. She slipped off her sandal and found his foot under the table; she bumped his foot with her own, stroked up his leg.

He smiled, and reached down to catch her ankle. "Christine," he smiled, "Are you trying to seduce me?"

She felt a hot shiver slip down her spine. Christine was not embarrassed in the slightest, and she was under no false impressions. The look in Erik's eyes proved he wasn't either.

She smiled at him, "Erik, I think we both know I already have."

He stroked her foot, grazing each toe and running a nail up her arch. "I won't argue that point. You had me from the start."

_'And tomorrow could spell our end…'_

Christine moved back, grasping the small shopping bag from her earlier. "I'm going to change for the night. Will you wait for me?"

He nodded. "I've waited my whole life. What's a few more minutes?"

Christine nodded and slinked into the bathroom, making quick work of shedding her day clothes and bringing out the lace gown she'd bought on her way to seeing Victor. She was excited- a virgin, as close to love as she could imagine. She brushed out her hair and splashed water over her face before slipping into the snowy lace.

She stepped out of the bathroom and moved to the bedroom. Erik was sitting on the end of the bed. They looked to each other and smiled.


	15. For Tomorrow

Erik stared at the ceiling of the lavish rented suite. Christine was in his arms, naked beneath the sheet, naked against him. He was panting hard as a racehorse, his body felt beyond merely drained; it was as if Christine's hot golden glow had come over him completely, sending him into space, only to bring him crashing back down to earth.

His body was quivering from the love they had shared. Erik looked down to Christine. She was not asleep. Her eyes were hooded under the thick fans of her lashes, but she was not panting as Erik was. She was relaxed, serene and content.

Throughout his life, Erik had known few women, but none like Christine. He couldn't comprehend what this young woman was; Victor's most marvelous of creations, this beautiful, challenging, accepting girl!

The things she had done…the French might have referred to her as a _demi-vierge_, a half-virgin, untouched but not without experience. Every man's dream, the wanton virgin. He had never experienced such passion. She'd never said the words, but he had read the truth in her bright seaglass eyes.

Erik rested his hand on the curve of her hip, possessive. He looked down at the ring on her finger. _'She's mine. This beautiful woman…so wonderful, mine, mine, mine…Christine, I'll give you everything…'_

She looked up at him. "Did I please you?"

Erik's eyes widened slightly. "Did you-? Christine, you were the most wonderful lover I've ever had! I can't even describe how…why are you smiling?" He asked.

She was grinning at him, seeming as pleased with herself as if she were a cat with a belly full of fish. "I'm happy to have pleased you, that's all. I wasn't exactly sure how…"

He raised his brows, "You weren't sure? Christine, you've been amazing since the moment I met you." Erik said, cradling her face in his hands.

"I was amazing thanks to the downloads," she said lightly as she turned to kiss his palm.

He frowned slightly. "The downloads. Of course."

Not sensing his darkening mood, she continued, "Yes. Victor thought it would be interesting to have us learn all volumes of the _Kama Sutra_. I know it all but you never gave me the chance to practice. Thank you for tonight," she said as she rested her cheek against his chest.

Erik moved away from her, leaving the bed. He took up his robe from the floor and shrugged into it, belting it around his waist. "You're welcome," he said gruffly.

Christine's brows drew together. "Erik? It's late, come back to bed,"

He shook his head, "No. I might let you _practice_ on me later, but right now I need some air," he asserted as he took his clothes from earlier in the day and headed out of the bedroom.

* * *

_'Practice? Practice?! Well, I'm happy to have obliged you!'_

Erik paced up and down the dark shore in front of the hotel they'd just shared, glaring at the crescent moon, the ocean, anything that caught his eye was the recipient of his anger. Had he imagined everything? That they were friends who cared for each other, and had just crossed over to being lovers?

She didn't love him, she'd thanked him for letting her finally be able to put her knowledge of sex into physical practice!

Erik shook his head and ran frustrated, angry hands through his hair as he walked, feeling the warm sand seep in between his bare toes. All his longing and hopes…his thoughts raced in a swirl of madness.

_She's not even capable of human emotion, how could I have ever thought she could care for me?! She made me believe, I was so convinced! Conniving women- if I'm not used as an instrument of jealousy by Joan, then I'm nothing more that a body for Christine…God, I'm ridiculous! Why did I ever think that any of this would be a simple courtship, followed by marriage and real, true happiness? I never should have done this…I shouldn't have walked out…'_

He checked his watch to see that he'd been pacing obsessively for nearly an hour already, and he glanced up to see a few young couples crowded around a bonfire in the sand. He could go back to her, apologize, and bring her outside with him; a walk on the moonlit beach, maybe they could start a bonfire of their own. It would be a romantic thing to do, wouldn't it?

_'I need to get back- I need to learn how to control my temper, I should never have snapped at her. We've never fought before, why start now? Now, when she's seen and accepted me, now when I've probably ruined all that was building between us…_'

Erik kicked himself and turned back toward the hotel.

* * *

He made quick work of getting back into the lobby and ignored the occasional people that openly looked at his face. Erik had to wonder if he truly was overreacting about his appearance- no one was screaming at him, at least.

_'Christine isn't bothered by my face- she is the only one who matters to me…'_

The elevator pulled up the height of the hotel, bringing Erik closer and closer to their room. He only wanted to apologize and set things right between them; he wanted to have a real relationship with her, a real life like any other man.

More than anything, he wanted them to enjoy the rest of their vacation, without her origins or his insecurities surfacing to dampen what could be a wonderful memory of the States.

Erik slipped into their suite and headed towards the bedroom, expecting to find Christine as he'd left her- naked and confused beneath the sheets. He frowned when he saw that she wasn't there. Erik's eyes took in the sight of the rumpled sheets, the bed where they had come together. She had been a virgin, and yet there was no blood. He assumed that to simply be part of her New Race engineering.

It was a difficult thing for him to remember, that she was not human as he was. Even after his chilling meeting with Victor, even after reading the notebook and even after witnessing Christine's birth into the world…all of that fell away when he looked into her eyes.

She might be Victor's creation, but she was Erik's love.

'_Why stop at love? I _adore_ her!'_

He turned toward the bathroom once he heard a retching sound coming from the other side of the door. There was no hesitation as he moved to open the door, only to find it locked. "What the-? Christine, what's wrong?"

"Oh, God, you're back! Erik, please, just leave me alone, I'll be fine, I'll be out in just a little while!" She called back frantically.

He frowned and rolled his eyes, relieved to hear that she was at least able to speak. "Like hell. Christine, you open this door right now! What happened?"

He could hear her coughing; the erratic shadows on the floor betrayed her movements. "I'm just…please, don't worry about me, I'll be fine!"

His patience was running out, and he didn't hesitate to let her know it. "Christine, if you don't open this door right now, I'm going to break it down!"

"No, you shouldn't do that! I'm not worth it, don't come in here, Erik! I'm fine, I just don't want you to see me…" She admitted in despair.

He raised his brows, "What? Why wouldn't I want to see you?"

"I don't know why it's happening tonight, tonight of all nights! You were wonderful, why is it happening now? Don't come in here, please, Erik…tomorrow, after tomorrow everything will be all right. He told me, he is never wrong…"

Erik huffed and decided that he'd had enough of her rambling- something was wrong and she was afraid to tell him what was happening to her! The memory if her brilliant color nearly fading away completely came back to him, and so Erik slammed his shoulder into the door. Once, twice, the doorframe finally cracked under the force he put into the third strike.

He staggered into the bathroom and found Christine on the floor against the wall. She wore a hotel robe and as he'd suspected, her color was fading in the slow dissolve that animators used; the bottom two-thirds of her long hair had already faded to a pale strawberry blonde, while one of her deep turquoise irises was nearly gone, absorbed into the surrounding white.

She looked away from him, burying her face into the thick, fluffy folds of the robe. "Don't look at me! If you see me, you'll never want to be with me again,"

He kneeled down before her and took her into his arms. Erik tried not to let on, but he was terrified- for her, for him, for them and the life he'd envisioned for them to have together. "Christine, listen to me, I'm going to take you to a hospital. Maybe they can-"

He stopped once he felt Christine shuddering against him. "Christine? What's-?"

He drew back to look at her, terrified that she might be having a seizure. She wasn't convulsing, she was laughing!

"No, Erik, you listen to _me!_ We can't go to a hospital, do you understand? We can't go anywhere near a place like that!"

"What are you saying, why no hospitals?"

Christine took a deep breath and allowed him to look at her. Her irises were seeming to fade in and out- one moment they were their normal seaglass shade, the next moment they would almost liquefy and seep out of color altogether. She smiled, and glanced down at a lock of her limp hair, nearly white now on the very ends. "Erik, what hospital in the world would know what to do with me?"

He found himself at a loss for words. Christine continued. "Maybe you've forgotten Victor's notebook, Erik! The notes on the anatomy of the New Race, don't you remember? I don't have any reproductive organs and I have two hearts! You think after finding out what I am, that they would just let me walk back out onto the street, or even better, you don't think Victor hasn't put in a safeguard?"

Erik shook his head, not able to understand, "Safeguard?"

"All it would take is a few words from him. None of us can attack him, none of us can disclose what it is he is doing without suffering the ultimate consequence. Erik, Victor is the only one that can fix me…"

Erik felt a definite chill sweep down his spine, and as he had since the moment he'd learned the truth behind Biovision and the Hands of Mercy, he felt frighteningly out of control.

* * *

Erik carried Christine back to the bed and cradled her against him. Her color loss went back and forth throughout the night; it seemed that one moment she would be her vibrant self, and only minutes later her appearance would slip and she would lose all color, so much so that it seemed she would almost revert into the blank lifeless thing she was before Victor had injected her with life.

Watching the woman he loved transform back and forth in such a way was as heart wrenching a thing as Erik had ever experienced. Christine explained to him that her body was dying before his very eyes, that something had happened to her before Victor had brought her to him. She assured him that she was in no pain, and from the easy way she spoke with him, he believed her, but all the same he was terrified of losing her in the night. So he kept her talking- they spoke for hours and hours, until Erik was exhausted and the bright California sun struck the ocean.

Christine kissed Erik's ravaged, torn face. He'd fallen asleep moments ago, as she had hoped he would. She didn't want him to accompany her to the transferal, she didn't want Victor to be anywhere near Erik. For all the reverence she had for her creator, Victor was a dangerous man who had no respect for the lives of natural humans.

Life to Victor had become a renewable resource; he would not hesitate to kill the both of them.

Christine was under no delusion of what she was, and never had been.

_Today I will be renewed, so that I can live for Victor's tomorrow…and Erik will be there with me…_

As carefully as she could, Christine extracted herself from Erik's secure hold. She stood at the end of their bed and watched him as he slept, absorbing the sight of a man that loved her. She wasn't sure if she could understand love in the way that they did, but she felt something for him, something very strong. She knew that she wanted him to be happy, to stay safe; she understood the reason that he'd bought her, that he had tried and not once been able to find a woman accepting of his face.

He was imperfect, but Christine liked him as he was. She was imperfect as well, and she knew Erik cared for her very much. They were two of a kind.

Christine glanced over to the bedroom mirror. Her color was with her, for the moment. She frowned, knowing that she would begin to fade again within minutes. There was a hooded sweatshirt she could wear once she made it out of the hotel and into the public, and she had brought a pair of sunglasses with her from England. It wasn't a wonderful disguise but it would have to do.

She paused at the door, hesitating only for a moment. Her debate was over whether or not to leave a note for Erik, but to keep him safe, she had no choice but to keep him trapped in ignorance.

She left the hotel, with nothing left to do but to go forward, and hope.

* * *

Erik awoke, ignorant for only a few blissful moments before he reached out for Christine. He jolted into frantic alertness when he found he was alone. "Christine!" He shouted.

Nothing but silence answered back.

His mind spun with the horrible possibilities of what could have happened to her. Had she left him? Returned to Victor? Faded into nothingness while he slept?

_'God, how could I have slept when she needed me? How long was I asleep? Where are you, Christine?!'_

Erik jumped to the only conclusion there was: she had gone to find Victor, thinking he would help her. For himself, Erik didn't know what to think, he only knew that he had to find Christine and make sure that she was safe.

He took the phone and called information, unable to rid himself of the upset tremble in his voice. No listing for Biovision, no listing for Hands of Mercy and no listing for a Victor Helios. He didn't bother to ask for a Victor Frankenstein.

The number that he'd used to reach Victor in the very beginning was disconnected.

The cold, paralyzing chill of despair swept through him. What could he do? How could he find her?

Christine had left him no trace of her intentions; he had fallen asleep when he was supposed to protect her!

But how could he have helped with what was happening to her body? Erik had once thought that few things were beyond his mastery, but since the moment he had come into contact with Victor, he realized just how wrong he had been.

* * *

She slipped into the suite, her feet dainty and quiet on the carpeted floor. It was late afternoon, she had not returned directly to the hotel after everything that had happened with Victor. No, she'd taken the time to try out her new body, comparing it to the old. Her face looked the same, and she was happy to see that the brilliant colors of her new body were identical to those of her first.

Victor's wife, Erika, had provided her with some new clothing- the only article that Christine had kept from her old body had been Erik's beautiful rings. Bright, seaglass eyes took in the seemingly empty room, intent on finding Erik, wherever he may be. No doubt he would be furious when he saw her, but Christine wouldn't mind his fierce temper. Surely he would be happier to see that she had returned to him, a perfect specimen of the New Race, and would never again fade before his eyes?

"Erik," she called out to him.

The glass door to the balcony flew open and Christine instantly found herself enveloped in a pair of strong, frantic arms. "Christine, where were you?" He demanded.

"I was getting help," she replied as she brought her hands over his shoulders.

"Help? You mean Victor?"

She nodded, "Yes. Everything will be all right now, how do you like my new body?" She asked, smiling and posing before him.

"I…you look the same to me," he said. Obviously Erik still had much to learn about woman.

Christine frown subtly. "I am not the exact same. I'm half an inch taller, three pounds lighter and Erik, I can sing to bring down the roof," she grinned in excitement.

He held her closer, "I never cared about any of that, are you sure you're all right?"

"Positive."

Christine kissed him, and Erik felt himself engulfed by the wonderful, familiar golden warmth. It was her, she had come back to him.

He returned her kiss, thrilled, relieved, and so happy. "Then let's go down to the beach, Christine. You'll sing for me, you'll sing for us both."

She kissed him again, "Are you sure you wouldn't rather just stay in tonight?"

Erik laughed, "My God, Christine, how did I ever live without you?"

She smiled. Her bright eyes shined at him, holding acceptance, holding adoration, and always, always holding secrets.


End file.
